One Hundred Ways To Say I Love You
by ParijanTaiyou
Summary: Collection of drabbles inspired by a tumblr post. Title is pretty self-explanatory. ;)
1. Pull Over Let Me Drive For A While

Hi guys! A few days ago I stumbled into this tumblr post (p0ck3tf0x dot tumblr dot com /post/98502010026, called 100 Ways to Say I Love You). As I read it, I - like I usually do - pictured House and Cuddy and figured that hey, that could definitely work as a fanfic.

So I decided to write roughly one hundred drabbles, one for each way to say I love you. Roughly, since I may slip one or two or three ways in the same drabble or not write about some of them. That is yet to be decided.

Each drabble will be independent from the others, and will take place at different times in House and Cuddy's history : could be medical school, could be season one, could be season seven, could be no season in particular, could be one precise moment.

I've always wanted to write tiny fics depicting House and Cuddy doing sweet things for each other in their relationship, especially domestic fluff, as it's often been done in fanfictions, but always lacked the inspiration. And it seems that I have it now.

This will also allow me to exercise my writing muscle, as I haven't written anything since - at best, but I'm not sure - last December and finally, _finally_ , work on From The Cradle To The Grave and get it done once and for all!

This story (or stories) is a work in progress, but I'm hoping to write at least one every day - which is the whole point of exercising my writing muscle, right?

Do let me know what you think if you read this fic. It's been a long, long time since I've heard from you guys :)

* * *

 **One Hundred Ways To Say I Love You**

* * *

 **1\. Pull over. Let me drive for a while.**

 _(Season seven)_

"Why did we have dinner at your sister's again?" House asked as he slid into the passenger's seat.

"Because she invited us and she wanted to get to know you better," Cuddy replied monotonously as she turned on the ignition.

"Once more with feeling."

She sighed. "Because I thought Rachel should spend the weekend with her cousins. Whom she barely ever sees, by the way."

"Nice cousins." She pulled out of the driveway. "Except for that one who spilled grape juice on your blouse."

She glanced down at her grey top. "It's fine, most of it's gone anyway. I can probably save it."

"And the other two who threw a tantrum every ten minutes. What was that all about actually?" She shrugged. "With your sister being a stay-at-home mom, you'd figure she'd have more control over her kids."

"So you did listen to what she was telling you over dinner!"

He snorted. "I wasn't, she just mentioned it once or twice. Or twelve times. Insisting on just how fulfilled she was while staring at you."

"Besides, you can't blame her. She has _three_ kids!"

"Well, if you can't manage kids, don't make them."

The light went green. "Oh come on," Cuddy muttered as the car in front of them wouldn't budge.

"Is she always like this with you?"

"Yeah well, you should see her when Mom's here. When will you finally find a husband? Rachel needs a daddy. How much time do you actually spend with her anyway? Jesus," she scoffed. "I wish I'd had a drink."

"I'll remember to sneak a flask in next time."

"Make sure Jules doesn't find it, or else she'll take the car keys and make us spend the night."

"I bet this 'don't drink and drive' charade is from the last time she had guests for dinner, and they were so bored they drunk themselves unconscious."

She smirked. They slipped into a comfortable, tired silence. Cuddy rubbed her neck, occasionally glanced at the backseat through the rear-view mirror.

"She'll be fine," House told her.

"Yeah." She smiled. "I'm just not used to the car being so quiet. Or the house, for that matter."

"Trust me, _we'll_ make plenty of noise," he assured her with a wink. She smiled faintly but did not indulge him. "Pull over," he told her. She opened her mouth to protest. "Let me drive for a while."

She did as she was told without a word. They switched seats and House pulled back into a traffic. As they drove, Cuddy's restlessness ebbed away and her eyelids closed on their own volition – just as he'd predicted.

"I used to wish I had as many kids as Julia," she eventually sighed as she wrapped her coat around herself. "But I'm glad it's just Rachel and me. I may not be a housewife or a soccer mom like my sister, but I'm doing my best. It's all that matters."

"Good kid."

"Yeah. She doesn't even like grape juice. I think I'm doing it right." They chuckled. He took her hand, placed it on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.

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 _I also have a tumblr now! youreorangeyoumoron dot tumblr dot com. Next drabble will be published in a few days. Thank you for reading :)  
_


	2. It Reminded Me Of You

Hello guys! Thank you for the amazing feedback :D here is another drabble!

You may notice that it's so inaccurate, it hurts. It is set in both very early season 5 and during Cuddy's first year in medical school (which I think is when they hooked up?). I know next to nothing about medical studies in the US, especially what it was like in the 80's. What Cuddy is studying is what I learned last semester so it's probably pre-med stuff?

Also, from what we know from the show about their med school years, House and Cuddy only had a one night stand, but I wanted to mess with canon a little bit.

Sorry for the inaccuracies! I hope you will nevertheless enjoy this drabble :)

* * *

 **2\. It reminded me of you.**

 _I really need to find someone who'll buy me lunch_ , House thought as he made his way down to the lecture hall. No cafeteria for him today. He's not in the mood to endure the pitying glances directed to the man who just accidentally killed his best friend's lover.

Yeah, he really ought to think about something else. Anything.

House sat at the back of the empty auditorium and propped his legs on the narrow table, took a bite of his tuna sandwich before a thick textbook sitting on the floor caught his attention.

Anatomy. Probably forgotten. Probably abandoned – well, he couldn't blame them, he thought as he distractedly flipped through the book. These entangled webs of captions were horrendous. He did however manage a tiny smile at the sight of a mnemonics scribbled next to an anterior view of the wrist bones. _Scared Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle_. So that was still a thing.

* * *

"Homemade sandwiches," Greg announced as he brandished a large paper bag. Lisa, clad in a tank top and jeans, offered him a wide smile and stepped aside to let him in.

"Just give me a minute. I'm not done studying yet," she said as she sat back down at her desk. He followed her into her cramped dorm room and lifted the cover of her book, much to her annoyance.

"Come on, you know this. You've been studying anatomy all semester."

"Well, the midterm is in two days, and I want to make sure I don't, you know, mix up the radius with the ulna."

"You won't." She ignored him and defiantly turned the page. He pushed her thick, dark curls onto her shoulder and his hands circled her neck gently, his thumbs pressing into the base of her skull.

"What are you doing?"

"What's this?"

She rolled her eyes. "C1. C2," she enumerated as his hands slid down to the seventh cervical vertebra.

"Roots of the brachial plexus," he demanded as he massaged her tense shoulders.

"C5, C6, C7, C8 and T1, while keeping in mind there's only seven cervical vertebrae."

"Good. Now the cords."

He traced on her skin each of the nerves she named, axillary, median, ulnar, all the way to her fingertips, stretching out her arms, cupping her elbows. She briefly thought that none of her boyfriends had ever bothered to touch her elbows before. He then curled his fingers around her pinky and ring fingers. "Ulnar nerve." He let go and held her three other fingers together. "Median nerve."

"Now the carpal bones," he said as he wrapped his hands around her frail wrists.

"Scaphoid. Lunate." She hesitated. "Triquetrum. Pisi –"

"Scared lovers try positions that they can't handle."

She tilted her head back to look at him. "What?"

"It's a mnemonics, dummy. So you don't think twice before saying triquetrum."

She smirked, took in the sight of his curled, tousled brown hair, and gorgeous blue eyes, and thin lips, and strong arms, and she held his firm, warm hands in hers. "I like when you talk dirty to me."

"Oh yeah?" He leaned forward. "Triquetrum," he whispered against her mouth. She grinned and captured his lips into a kiss. "Now on to the sacral plexus."

* * *

Cuddy frowned at the sight of a textbook sitting on her desk when she got back from lunch. Her brow furrowed further when she recognized House's handwriting on the sticky post-it note he'd put on the cover.

 _It reminded me of you._

What kind of prank was he going to pull this time? She wondered if she was going to be looking at a uterus. Or breasts. Or maybe male genitalia. She flipped the note.

 _Page 84._

Anterior view of the carpal bones. A mnemonics scribbled next to it. Not House's handwriting.

She grinned. So that was still a thing.


	3. No No It's My Treat

You guys! Thank you for the feedback :D This is a sequel to number two. Still set in early season 5. It's also a tad shorter - sorry. The next drabble will be there tomorrow.

 **3\. No, no, it's my treat.**

"Doctor Cuddy," House greeted her as he materialised behind her in the queue for the cafeteria. "Did you like my gift?"

"You mean the anatomy textbook you stole from a student?" She put an empty tray on the rail and he followed her. "It's been returned to its owner."

"But did you look at it?" He made a face when she put a plate of salad on her tray. He chose a burger with fries, at which she made a face.

"I did. Glad to know this mnemonics is still a thing." She added a yogurt and a bottle of water as she moved along. House placed a piece of chocolate cake on her tray.

"Gotta feed that gigantic ass of yours." She put it back on his tray with a roll of her eyes. "Thought that mnemonics could come in handy." He winked. "Handy? See what I did there?"

"Thanks for your concern but I know the carpal bones, House." She pulled her wallet out of her pocket while House fumbled for some change. "No, no, it's my treat," she told him with a smile. "Especially the triquetrum," she added with a hint of nostalgia.

"Oh, so these ten years of pushing pencils haven't eaten away at your brain. That's good to know."

"You wanna insult me after I buy you lunch? Go to Hell."

He grinned and followed her to her table. "Well it would have been stupid to insult you _before_ you bought me lunch."


	4. Come Here Let Me Fix It

You guys! Thank you for the reviews. Here's another. It's longer. And it rhymes (kinda), and it's set in season 7 (definitely).

 **4\. Come here. Let me fix it.**

He watches her get ready, standing beside her in the bathroom, mesmerised by the amount of creams and cosmetics she rubs into her face and down her neck – lotion, concealer, foundation, and – just when he thinks she's finally done – some clear powder.

"I'll just be a minute," she tells his reflection in the mirror as she catches him staring at her.

"No you won't."

She smirks. "No I won't."

"I know women." She rolls her eyes, applies flesh-toned eyeshadow. "Although I will never understand why you need to put so much makeup on."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Cuddy turns to look at him as she fishes in a drawer for her mascara. "And you could have put a little more effort into tying your tie."

"It's a charity gala, not a funeral," he mumbled.

"House, you wouldn't even wear a tie to a funeral!"

Reluctantly, he unties the black ribbon and gives it another try. He looks at himself in the mirror, slightly aghast. He's clad in a black tuxedo and an ironed crisp white shirt. Although he did not bother to comb his hair and shave, it's a far cry from his rumpled button-downs and worn-out jeans. He looks like a whole different person.

Cuddy, on the other hand, looks absolutely stunning; she is wearing an ivory wrap dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and underneath that – he didn't see it, but he _knows_ – a garter belt with sheer stockings, because that's the kind of lingerie she wears when she wants to feel particularly confident and awesome.

"Screw it, why don't we just blow this off?" he asks as he dives for her neck. "Emphasis on _screw._ And _blow_."

"Don't smudge my makeup," she whines as she squirms away from him. "Plus I can't touch you, I have foundation all over my hands."

"That's okay, you don't need to use your hands."

She shakes her head and turns back to the mirror as she rubs – _what the hell was it this time? Lip balm? –_ into her lips. "By the way, your tie is askew."

House sighs, nevertheless tries again. Cuddy watches him fumble out of the tail of her eye, mildly amused, while she paints her lips red; which he seems to approve of, as he loses all focus when he catches a glimpse of her.

"You're hopeless. Come here. I'll fix it," she says, reaching for his collar. He lets her tie his tie expertly, all the while contemplating her face adorned with a focused pout. "There you go," she says as she smoothes it out against his chest.

"Do I have permission to kiss my girlfriend now?"

She grins. "You do have permission."

"Cuz I wouldn't want to smudge her makeup." His hands cup her waist as he leans into her.

"Your girlfriend doesn't care."

"Excellent." He kisses her lips softly, quickly reaching under her clothes to grope her.

She pulls away with a smirk. "Hold that thought. I finally tied your goddamn tie." His face falls. She wipes with her thumb the spots of red lipstick around his mouth. "You clean up pretty nice, Dr House."

"Thanks. I moisturize daily," he quips. Cuddy smirks and drags him out of the bathroom.


	5. Have A Good Day At Work

Hello everyone! Thank you for the feedback. Small delay, sorry (for my defense, it is too hot to be doing anything at the moment) (if you're suffering through this heat wave too, stay hydrated!).

This one is set in season seven.

 **5\. Have a good day at work.**

"Stay in bed," House groans as Cuddy wriggles free from his grasp. "Blow off yoga."

"I can't." She kisses him somewhere on his face – he's too sleepy to register where. After all, it's not even six in the morning. "I have a board meeting at nine thirty."

He happily goes back to sleep, briefly awoken by Rachel and Cuddy showering. A little while later, it's Rachel who wakes him up, playfully shaking him.

"Howse! Make me breakfast!"

"I'll be right there, shortie," he says as she happily saunters to the kitchen. He sits up, carefully rubs his leg – though it's not as sore as when he was living on his own – and swallows a couple pills.

"You awake, sleeping beauty?" Cuddy teases him as she puts her foot on the bed and rolls her stocking up her leg.

"I am," he mutters, unabashedly staring at his braless girlfriend putting clothes on.

"Howse!" Rachel calls out from the kitchen, getting slightly impatient.

"All bran muffin, Greek yogurt and green tea?" Cuddy nods. He gets up, gives her a light smack on the rear and limps to the kitchen. He fills the kettle with tap water, turns on the coffee machine, pours Rachel a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice, and sets the table so that all three breakfasts are ready when Cuddy, fully clothed and made up, sits down in the kitchen.

A precise choreography of slipping shoes and coats on ensues; Cuddy double-checks Rachel's schoolbag, puts her stilettos on while House helps the kid with tying her shoelaces.

"Ugh. Can you drive us today?" Cuddy asks, gesturing to a handful of folders sitting on the floor next to her purse. "I still have to review this for the board meeting."

"Okay, but I'm not showering." He throws on a tee shirt and a pair of jeans and grabs her car keys. The three of them head outside, climb into the car, drop Rachel at school, then drive to the hospital.

"You know, you could actually come in to work on time today," she says as they enter the parking lot.

"But I haven't showered," he pouts. She smirks and leans forward to kiss him on the mouth. "Have a good day at work," he tells her before she exits the car. He watches her march to the stairwell and turn around to wave at him. House drives back to her place, where he catches some more sleep and gets ready to head to the hospital.

He walks in around eleven, just in time for Cuddy to walk out of her office and thrust a few files into his hands. "Gather your team, House. You've got a case."

"Says who?" he groans.

"Your boss." She pats his arm encouragingly and sashays back to work.


	6. I Dreamt About You Last Night

Hi everyone! I just realised it's already been one week. I'm terrible at keeping track of the time, apparently. Sorry about that.

Quick update on what is going on here : I have currently pretty much run out of inspiration for this story. But the point of this story was to get myself to write again, and I've just started working on FTCTTG and I have some ideas for another Breaktime chapter. I still have a few drabbles waiting to be published. Inspiration will come back sooner or later. But you will definitely see more of me (hopefully really soon!)

This drabble is set in season 6, not long after Known Unknowns. It's kinda angsty. Rated T for a reason, precisely sexual situations. Enjoy ;)

 **6\. I dreamt about you last night.**

Of course the woman was going to haunt his dreams too.

It apparently wasn't enough that he fantasised about her daily.

Ever since the conference, he'd had these recurring dreams with her. One of his favourite fantasies, except more vivid and detailed.

Had Wilson known about this, he would have told him all about how he was in love with her and longing for her and how he had to take the bull by its horns and ask her out already. Gee, thanks.

She always marched to his office, clad in a low-cut white blouse which left most of her red bra visible and a skin tight black skirt, closed the blinds but did not lock the door. Without a word, she walked up to him, sitting in his desk chair, hiked up her skirt to reveal stockings attached to a garter belt, and knelt down before him. She went down on him, making obscene, satisfied noises.

Sometimes, when he was seeking a quick get-off, someone would walk in and find the boss kneeling down with his cock in her mouth. He never imagined what happened next.

But his subconscious obviously wanted more; because even after he was done, he'd bend her over his desk and take her roughly from behind. And that's where the problem was: she'd tell him she loved him while he possessed her. And he'd say it back while he came undone once again.

When he woke up that morning, he wasn't surprised to find tented sheets for the fifth night in a row.

 _Take the bulls by its horns and ask her out already!_

Oh, hell.

Well, something had to be done.

Once he'd set foot in the hospital, he headed directly to her office and pushed the door open. "I dreamt about you last night," he meant to say, but when he saw Lucas sitting across from her, the words died before they even reached his lips.

"Hi House," that little shit said smugly. Cuddy just looked at him with sad eyes and pursed her lips.

Right. He seemed to have omitted that small detail.

"What's up?" she asked, hoping to lift the sudden tension in the room.

He couldn't think of a lie or a clever retort, and just walked out instead.

Looked like he'd be pulling an all-nighter tonight, maybe have a drink or two.

That sounded about right.


	7. I Saved A Piece For You

Hi guys! Here is another drabble. It's a lot less angsty. Takes place in no season in particular.

I looked up 'biggest tumor' and the record seems to be 242 pounds (which means absolutely nothing to me. You know, metric system and all), I didn't really look into it. But apparently this tumor was discovered after the series finale, so it doesn't really make any sense. Anyway. Again, sorry for the inaccuracies.

Enjoy!

 **7\. I saved a piece for you.**

"Well," House sighed as he plumped down one of the chairs facing her desk. "That was tedious."

She looked at him for a second while she tried to figure out what he was talking about, mildly surprised to see him wearing pink scrubs. _He looks like he's actually doing his job_ , she thought with an inner chuckle. "Your patient from the clinic," she remembered. "I thought Chase did the surgery."

"He did. It was tedious to watch. You should have seen it." He spread out his arms. "Forty pounds."

"What's the record again? Two hundred and forty?"

He smirked. "I love that you know this. Well, she was well on her way."

"How did she not realise sooner she was carrying a tumor that big?"

"She thought she was pregnant." Cuddy blinked a few times. "I know, right?"

"But the surgery went well?"

"Yep. Patient just woke up." He was going to get up and leave, when he seemed to remember about something important and fumbled into his pocket. "I saved a piece for you."

"What?" He threw a tiny lidded jar at her, which she caught without looking at it. "House, gross," she winced when she realised it was, in fact, a piece of said tumour swimming in formaldehyde. She tossed it back into his hands.

"Come on, Cuddy. Biggest tumor of PPTH. Don't you want a souvenir?"

"Ew, no. You keep it." He shrugged and turned to leave. "And don't tell me what you're gonna do with it!" she called out after him.


	8. I'm Sorry For Your Loss

Hello everyone! Thank you for the feedback. Here's another. It's set in season 3, right after episode 3.09. It's also not really my best drabble, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway!

 **8\. I'm sorry for your loss.**

What should have alarmed him first was Cuddy's blatant absence that morning; the blinds of her office doors were shut, the clinic was a little bit more chaotic. He'd shrugged it off, assuming she was in surgery or having an early lunch with benefactors.

But then he'd talked to Wilson.

"You should apologize to Cuddy."

"What for?"

"She said you were mean to her."

"I'm always mean to her. It's called banter. Foreplay. You should look it up."

"Apologize to her, House."

He _was_ mean to her. That part was true. But she'd barely ever talk to Wilson about it.

When he drove to her place, he wasn't thinking about apologizing. He was more curious to see how much he'd hurt her this time – to the extent where she told Wilson and skipped work to lick her wounds the next day. And when she opened the door with a deathly pale complexion, unkempt hair and a cup of tea, he did the math.

"What do you want House?" she asked. If she were hoping to sound intimidating, it didn't do the trick.

He couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Just go," she sighed wearily as she began to close the door. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your antics."

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. This caught her attention. "For your loss."

He hastily kissed her cheek and limped away.

"Thanks," she whispered with the tiniest trace of a smile once he was too far to hear her.


	9. You Can Have Half

You guys! Thank you for all your kind reviews! They really made my day :)

This one takes place in season seven and I like it a lot more. Enjoy!

 **9.** **You can have half.**

"So I told the guy, of course your wife is cheating on you!" Cuddy took a bite from her salad and immediately winced. "What?"

"Wrong dressing," she sighed.

He tried a lettuce leaf from her plate. "Ew."

"House, 'ew' is your opinion on salad no matter what."

"True. But this is particularly _ewey_ , to quote Rachel." She smirked. "'You gonna eat that?" he asked as she took another bite. She shrugged. He thrust his burger into her face. "You can have half."

"I appreciate your generosity, but I like my arteries unclogged and healthy."

"Suit yourself." He resumed munching his burger and she wished she could eat as ravenously as he did.

"What choice do I have?" she said eventually. "I can't throw an entire plate of food in the trash!"

House quickly took a look around the cafeteria. "Go get another one. I'll take care of it." Cuddy eyed him. "Trust me. Go."

"Do not touch this salad, House," she warned as she nevertheless stood up and walked away. House grabbed her plate and headed to the table of a morbidly obese family, where he unceremoniously abandoned Cuddy's salad.

"Trust me, you'll need this," he told the kid. His mother stood up and walked up to him, stopping in her tracks when he showed her his cane. She flipped him off instead and sat back down.

"Do I want to know what happened to my salad?" Cuddy asked when she came back with another plate.

"It's in good hands," he assured her. "For your own safety, it's all I can tell you."

"Right." She sat down, took a bite. "Yes," she sighed happily.

"Ew."


	10. Take My Seat

Hello everyone! Here is another drabble. (Well of course it is) (plot twist : it's not a drabble. We're actually going to play some pingpong now)

I've never been in NYC. This is based on what I've seen in movies and TV shows.

 **10\. T** **ake my seat.**

The rare times House and Cuddy went on a date, well – they either went big or went home.

This one night, they drove all the way up to New York City for dinner. By the time they left the restaurant, they figured they could take a walk – "more like take a limp," House said with a wink – which is how they found themselves standing on a crowded subway platform.

Once they were able to squeeze into a train, a thoughtful fellow passenger gave up their seat for House, which he took gladly. Cuddy managed to stand in front of him, holding on to the overhead metal bar.

"Oh shut up," she said when she caught him ogling down her shirt.

"Wasn't gonna say anything. I planned on just watching."

"Yeah well, no groping in a public place."

"Damn, there goes the orgy I had prepared for you."

Cuddy smirked and slipped out of one of her stilettos. Wearing brand new shoes on a date – she should have known better.

"Take my seat," House told her.

"No, I'm good," she refused, rather predictably.

"Cuddy, I'm a cripple. I can get a new seat in less than five seconds."

"I told you, I'm fine. But thanks."

House shook his head and grabbed her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She let out a little squeal, mostly falling into the man seated next to them. "I'm so sorry," she said to the man who glared at her. House sat her upright and held on to her. She happily leaned into him.

"I think we have a fan," he whispered into her ear. That's when she noticed the old lady sitting across from them, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, hi," Cuddy said with a giggle.

"She's probably just staring at your breasts." She swatted his arm.


	11. Sorry I'm Late

Hello everyone! New drabble. This one is set around the end of 7.14 'Recession Proof'. I've included a line of dialogue from the episode.

I absolutely loved House's drunken confession when I watched it, then as time went on I began to understand why Cuddy didn't seem too happy about it, more time went on and I realised that House not caring about being the best doctor evah was his biggest proof of love for her. Anyway, long story short, I still love the drunken confession, but I still needed to write a different ending.

Enjoy!

 **11\. Sorry I'm late.**

"Go home and change," Wilson had told him. "Party's in a few hours."

That's when he realised that he couldn't do it. He couldn't go to a party and behave and exchange pleasantries. Not today.

Cuddy wouldn't mind, right? He'd told her he'd RSVP'd, he'd booked a mariachi band, and she knew about his patient. She'd understand. After all, he did take his death pretty hard; he had solved the puzzle, but he couldn't deny that a tiny part of him actually felt bad for the guy – well, for his wife and their unborn child – which was new to him. A few years ago, he would have brushed it off and conducted an autopsy to make sure he was right.

Plus, he'd congratulate her plenty at home. And she was a strong and independent woman. She didn't need him to be there.

Oh, who was he kidding.

If he didn't show up, she would be pissed and worried and he would end up spending the night in the doghouse, quite literally.

He almost laughed at how long it took him to do the math – since his patient who had given her baby cancer, actually.

 _Cuddy_.

Obviously.

It always was about Cuddy.

He was distracted. He missed clues. As a direct result, patients died, leaving spouses and children behind. This one was not the first, and he would not be the last.

For a second, he panicked. He realised how much he longed for a drink and wished he had Vicodin stashed somewhere in his office.

But then he saw her curled up next to him at night and he saw her bright smile and he remembered how long it had taken them to get to right then, right there, how messy and painful it had been. He had fought far too much for this to give it up now.

So he rushed down to the parking lot, picked up his tuxedo from his car and got changed in the bathroom. He made it to the gala just in time to see the mariachi band play.

"Sorry, I'm late," he whispered into Cuddy's ear. She turned to him, gave him her bright smile.

"I'm glad you came," she whispered back before she kissed his cheek.

He saw her smile many more times and he saw her once again curled up next to him that night.

And it was all fine.


	12. It's Okay I Couldn't Sleep Anyway

Hello everyone! Here's a pretty angsty drabble (definitely what I would have loved to see on the show). It's set in season seven.

Enjoy!

 **12.** **It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway.**

Just for this once, Cuddy was the one who couldn't sleep.

He probably thought she didn't know, but he barely ever got more than five hours of sleep. Mix chronic pain with a restless mind, and you get bouts of insomnia, only worsened when he's on a case. He didn't toss and turn, when he got up to read or pace around or listen to music he was very careful not to wake her in the process; but sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night for no particular reason, and he either wasn't in bed at all or he was staring at the ceiling lost in his thoughts.

Tonight was one of these nights when she couldn't get her brain to shut up. She'd think about Rachel, about the hospital, about her own demons, about that article she read. Her own thoughts were so loud and alive that she couldn't keep her eyes shut. So she watched his chest rise and fall for a while, hoping the steady movement of his ribcage would lull her to sleep.

But then she saw his face twitch. She switched her bedside lamp on, caressed his forehead and his cheek and whispered his name.

"No," he shouted, thrashing around. She had to shake him more decidedly.

With him, deep sleep often came with nightmares.

His eyes flew open and he looked around, breathless. She touched his shoulder, tried to attract his attention.

"Sorry," he rasped once he'd focused on her, so low she wasn't sure she heard him. "Woke you up."

"It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway." He lay his head back down, on her pillow. "Do you want me to leave the light on?" she whispered.

He took her arm, wrapped it around his shoulders and shook his head no. She reached out to switch the light off and held him tighter, letting him bury his face in her chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." She stroked his head softly as she lulled him back to sleep. "You're okay."


	13. Take My Jacket, It's Cold Outside

Hi guys! Thank you for the feedback you left last time! It made my day, as usual ;)

This drabble is set in early season 7. I hope you'll enjoy it. Definitely had fun writing this one!

 **13\. Take my jacket, it's cold outside.**

These days, they mainly had sex at her place. It had taken House some effort to convince her and cajole her into accepting, but, finally, he felt like she was letting him into her life. There were conditions, of course – she assured him they were only temporary. He couldn't show up before Rachel was in bed, and he had to leave before she woke up.

"Trust me, you don't wanna meet overexcited nine p.m. Rachel," she'd said, which he didn't entirely buy. "Or sleepy-slash-grumpy seven a.m. Rachel, for that matter."

Their arrangement sufficed, for now. He understood that he couldn't stand in the way of the little time she spent with her daughter. Besides, letting him into her home night after night was a big step for her; it meant that they were a couple, they were not simply hooking up at his place, no strings attached.

He usually didn't bring dinner, since Cuddy ate with Rachel. They'd have sex, then take a quick nap or talk in hushed voices – it felt intimate, like they were telling each other secrets – then have sex again.

"You should probably go," she whispered, glancing at the clock. "It's one in the morning."

"I guess I should," he said, kissing her neck.

"House, come on, I'm gonna be exhausted at work tomorrow," she protested, gently pushing him away.

"Alright, boss lady." He kissed her on the mouth again, and again, and again. Cuddy watched him put his clothes back on, slipped her robe on and showed him to the front door, wrapping her arms around herself when the crisp wind hit her.

"Take my jacket, it's cold outside," she teased him.

He chuckled. "Thanks, at least I can be sure I'm not gonna lose an arm from frostbite."

He crossed the threshold and they looked at each other. "Will you call me again?" she asked, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

He played along. "Depends. But I think I like you."

"I like you, too."

They hugged, kissed again.

"Go home. Don't catch cold," he said as he vigorously rubbed her back. They kissed goodnight one last time. Cuddy watched him get into his car and drive away.


	14. You Can Borrow Mine

Hello everyone! Thank you for your continued support. There are still four or five drabbles waiting to be published but inspiration may strike again in the meantime. Or a bit later on. We'll see! Anyway, hope you will enjoy this one ;)

Edit: I forgot! This one is set before season seven, although it doesn't really matter.

 **14.** **You can borrow mine.**

Cuddy was at peace.

It was three in the afternoon. No major incidents at the hospital so far. The clinic was running smoothly. House had agreed for the first time in two weeks to catch up on his clinic hours. He'd seen three patients in half an hour, none of them had stormed out looking pissed off – well, not really. She'd kept an eye on him, volunteering at the clinic as well since her schedule allowed her to, for once. So far so good.

He dropped a folder in the outbox, whined a little, teased Cuddy who was filling admission paperwork at the nurses' station. He grabbed his next file, only to walk out of the exam room a moment later, and started listlessly looking around.

"What?" Cuddy asked.

"I can't find my stethoscope."

"Bummer."

"Can't do clinic duty without a stethoscope."

He began to walk away. Cuddy grabbed him by the sleeve and unwrapped her stethoscope from around her neck. "I know what you're trying to do. You can borrow mine," she told him with a wide grin.

"Moooom."

"Go," she said, gently pushing him towards the exam room.

"It's a seventy-year-old who says her cha-cha burns!"

"Perfect, you don't even need a stethoscope!"

"You think I want to be looking at dried up, yeasty vaginas? I'd rather be looking at yours."

"What makes you think my vagina isn't dried up and yeasty?"

A nurse glanced up in shock.

He looked at her from head to toe. "I know you haven't had some in a while, but come on, Cuddy. Give yourself some credit."

She smirked. "Just hold your breath, you big baby. You'll be fine."

"You're an evil, evil woman." She shut the door behind him, chuckling to herself.


	15. One More Chapter

Hello everyone! Sorry this took a few days longer than usual. This drabble is set in season seven. Enjoy! :D

 **15\. One more chapter.**

The first time House had read for her, she'd just had an exhausting day – to which he had, as usual, contributed – and couldn't focus on the novel she was reading in bed. Well aware that reading was one of her favourite ways to relax, along with bubble baths, tea and white wine, he'd taken the book from her hands and started reading aloud. It had taken her a moment to be sure that he wasn't pulling a prank on her, and she pat her pillow and settled more comfortably in bed.

He'd done it a few more times, eliciting less and less surprise as time went on. Eventually, Cuddy just handed him her book when they went to bed.

That day, they had a fight about him demanding a biopsy and her insisting that it was unnecessarily dangerous and he'd have to find another way – nothing out of the ordinary. Then another fight, about him ignoring her and doing the biopsy anyway, and his patient losing an eye and threatening to sue. Cuddy had barely talked to him at home, and when he joined her in bed she gave him her current bedside reading.

"If you're too lazy to read them yourself, just get audiobooks," he said, only half teasing her.

Her face fell just the tiniest bit, but enough for him to see. "Fine." She turned away from him and switched off her light. House reached around her and grabbed the book. He propped his back against the headboard and started reading aloud. Cuddy eventually rolled onto her back and stared absently as he turned the pages.

"One more chapter," she demanded when he was done. He quickly flipped through the pages.

"It's twenty pages," he sighed. She shrugged. He closed the book.

"You know, my father used to read me a bedtime story every night."

"You have weird fantasies. But okay," he said as he opened the novel again. "If that's what you're into, I'll read you another chapter and then spank you."

She smiled faintly and put her head on his shoulder as he resumed his reading.

She liked the sound of his voice, she liked that he took his time. And she missed her dad. House reading aloud to her somehow made her feel closer to him, now that she couldn't run to him for comfort anymore. She may not be able to call him for advice like she used to do, but at least she got to reminisce happy moments with her father after a shitty day.

And House, although he'd rather be caught dead than admit it, enjoyed this sweet, peaceful way of reconciling after they'd had a fight at the hospital. But his favourite part was still makeup sex.

It only took her five pages to fall asleep, her head getting heavier on his shoulder. He gently laid it back on her pillow, put her book on his nightstand and turned off the light.

Looked like makeup sex would wait.


	16. I'll Wait

Hello everyone! Thank you for the feedback you left last time :)

I've divided this drabble in two parts: the first one is set in season five, right after the 10th episode, and the first one is set in season six, between 5 to 9 and the episode right before Help Me (which is named Baggage, and it pains me that I had to look it up because I used to know most of the episode titles). It's also kinda angsty.

(I've also stolen a line from 5 to 9. It's not mine. I didn't write this episode.)

Enjoy!

 **16\. I'll wait.**

"Hi," Wilson said as he slid in the booth across from Cuddy, carrying his tray. "Can I sit here?" She nodded absently. "What's on your mind?"

"I went to thank House for the desk."

"I'm guessing that didn't go as planned." He took a bite of his club sandwich.

"Well, I found him all cosied up with a prostitute in his office." She gave him a rueful smile. "So no."

"I'm sorry. Did you talk to him about it?"

"What's the point?" she said with a sigh. "He's probably just gonna deny it or brush it off. What's done is done."

There was a pause, where Cuddy fooled herself into thinking she was done talking about it. Wilson knew better and waited.

"Did he tell you anything?" He shook his head. "Oh, and he grabbed my tit," she added after a while. Wilson choked on his food. "When I thought we were going to kiss."

"Wow."

"Yeah. It sucks. I actually thought we were going somewhere."

"You're pissed at him, I get it. But give him some time. He's not ready to be in a relationship yet."

"I'll wait, but will he ever be ready?" Wilson gave her a sad smile, which she returned.

* * *

"This place needs you, and that matters to you."

And he'd kissed her.

She wasn't sure whether he meant to console her or encourage her. Either that or it was his human side responding to her vulnerability, like it had the year before when she lost Joy.

And she couldn't deny that for the few seconds his lips had touched hers, it felt great. Exhilarating, even.

She would also be lying if she said she didn't need his words of encouragement. There was one opinion she valued above all else, and it was House's.

But she had to push him away.

"House."

"I'm sorry."

He sat back and turned away. She licked her lips.

"I can't do this now."

"I know."

She had to think of her daughter, and she had a boyfriend at home –

 _Oh._

She called the infamous pharm tech back into her office.

And then her day got infinitely better.

She met him again in the parking lot as they were both leaving.

"Congrats on the twelve percent, boss lady," he told her. She nodded with a smile. House turned away and headed for his bike.

"House," she called out, catching up with him. Before she could regret it, she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him firmly. "Thank you," she said, and hastily walked back to her car.

They would meet briefly almost every day in the parking lot or in a deserted staircase, mostly talking, about his patients, her daily victories and defeats, kissing once or twice. She liked that she could tell him about her day. Unlike Lucas who was rarely home at night and was more interested in having sex with her on the morning, House listened to her. And, well, the kiss was something she enjoyed, too. It was sweet and almost casual.

Until this day – he'd told her about his amnesia patient with the tattoo – when her guilt had gnawed all the way into her.

"I can't," she told him, staring down at her shoes.

"Do you love him?"

She snorted. "You're not seriously asking me this."

"Well, it's usually what they say in the movies," he said with a shrug. She smirked in spite of herself.

"Give me time."

He nodded, and gave her the sweetest kiss on her cheek. "I'll wait."


	17. Can I Have This Dance I'll Walk You Home

Hello everyone. Thank you for your kind reviews!

This drabble is based on two 'ways', as I was planning to use them for yet another college AU. I figured, why not use both?

Enjoy, and have a great weekend!

 **17\. Can I have this dance? / I'll walk you home.**

Most people thought Lisa Cuddy didn't party – unlike this guy at the bookstore with the insanely blue eyes – what with all the time she spent studying. It wasn't entirely untrue, come to think of it. When she heard there'd be a party on campus that night, she did take into account how much stuff she had yet to get done, and decided she could afford one night out.

She also had it on good intel that bookstore guy would be there.

Surely enough, she saw him standing alone at the bar. And he saw her right away, too. She wondered if he'd noticed that she'd been following him this past week. For the time being, she focused on dancing with her friends, and joined him at the bar when she needed a refreshment.

He looked at her with his arms crossed, leaning against the bar, while she picked up a drink.

"Hi. Lisa Cuddy," she said as she held out her hand.

Bookstore guy smirked and shook it. His hands felt firm and smooth at the same time. "I know. Greg House." She took a sip.

"By the way, I noticed you've cheated off me in endocrinology class today."

"And I noticed you've been following me. Looks like we're even."

She'd had time to observe him; he was sarcastic, when people bored him he looked away and moved on. But Greg House looked right into her eyes with an amused smirk.

"Can I have this dance?" he asked as he turned to the dancefloor, knowing she would say yes. And, well, she couldn't prove him wrong, could she?

Their chemistry was undeniable. It felt like a magnetic pull. Never had her body been so in-sync with anyone else's.

And when they slow-danced, well, the entire world ceased to exist.

"I should probably go," she eventually said as she checked her wristwatch.

"Why? Worried you'll turn into a pumpkin?"

She smiled. "Got a lot of studying to get done tomorrow."

He nodded, understanding. "I'll walk you home," he said as he grabbed the leather jacket he'd abandoned on the back of a stool.

They didn't talk much on the way back to her dorm room, but she enjoyed having him close to her. She felt safe – not that campus was a particularly dangerous place.

She opened her door wide, leaned against the door frame. "You wanna come in for a drink?"

That amused, interested smirk again.

Bookstore guy leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Sparks flied like it were the Fourth of July.

"Is this okay?" he whispered as he pulled away. She nodded.

"I actually don't have anything to drink."

The smirk widened as she took his hand and pulled him inside.


	18. Can I Hold Your Hand?

Hello everyone! This is the penultimate drabble of this series (so far!), the last one will be published this weekend. School starts on Monday, I probably won't have time to write anything more by then.

However!

I am going to be able to update From The Cradle To The Grave within two weeks, and since drabbles aren't as time consuming, I will try my best to write some more. Only downside is, I won't be able to update this series as frequently.

In the meantime, this one is set in season 7 episode 2. I hope you will enjoy it!

 **18\. Can I hold your hand?**

They were walking side by side across the parking lot, heading to their vehicles to get home, when Cuddy sensed that something was missing. They had been a couple for two days now, but it didn't feel like it. From an outsider's point of view, they were colleagues going home after a long day at work.

"Can I hold your hand?" she blurted.

"You're asking me?" She frowned, stopped walking. He did the same, a couple of steps ahead of her. "Last time I held your hand, you let go immediately."

Her mind went back to them walking to the elevators and her insisting they don't let their private lives interfere with work and him grabbing her ass. "Wait. You're mad about that?"

"I'm not," he said with a scowl.

"I was afraid someone would see us. _Before_ we had time to get to HR."

"Well can _I_ hold your hand now?"

"Well, yeah, since I'm asking."

"You don't have to ask, woman. Just take my hand."

She blushed. "Isn't it going to make walking trickier for you?"

House rolled his eyes, took her hand and pulled her with him. "I don't walk, I _limp_."

"Right."

"And no."

"Alright."

They kept walking. She held tighter on to his hand as he swung their conjoined arms backwards and forwards to ease his limping, and grinned.


	19. I'm Sorry I Didn't Mean To

Hi guys!

Well, this is it. The last drabble.

Thank you for sticking with me this summer, thank you for the lovely, lovely feedback. I appreciate every single review you guys write! I will hopefully be back soon. :D (yes, dear Guest, I am planning on writing all one hundred of them eventually. But I don't think I'll go as far as three hundred ;p)

This drabble is set in season seven, and is rated T for sexual situations. Now I thought 'I'm sorry I didn't mean to' was either very emotionally loaded or a silly situation, so... I went with silly. I hope you'll enjoy it!

 **19\. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.**

"Houuuuse," Cuddy hollered at the ceiling. "I'm coming!"

He was briefly tempted to pull away from her and tell her that, well, _duh_. If he couldn't tell she was climaxing from her hands gripping his hair, her thighs crushing his head, her sex clenching his fingers and her clit pulsating against his lips, she'd better find another partner. He decided instead that it would be a wiser idea to give his girlfriend an orgasm – which he did.

Cuddy's back arched up and she thrust her hips into his face, screaming her elation. He watched her peak and slowly, quietly glide back to Earth, one arm thrown across her face as she caught her breath.

"You almost broke my nose," he told her when she regained consciousness.

She chuckled breathlessly. "Worth it. I'm sure there's something I could do to make you feel better, though."

"You name it."

She smiled, took his hands and pulled him on top of her. "Come here." He kissed her sweetly, threading his fingers through her hair as she wrapped her hand around his erection. Just when he was lifting one of her thighs to enter her, she gently pushed him away. "Not like this," she whispered, before turning over and laying on her stomach.

House could not contain his excitement. "You naughty, naughty girl." As he leaned over to kiss her neck, she suddenly threw her head back and bumped into his nose. He yelped, Cuddy turned around, only to see him sit up as he rubbed his nose.

"Shit, sorry. You okay?"

"You know, if you wanted to play it rough, you could have just said so," he quipped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"I think I'm having a nosebleed."

She rolled her eyes. "Let me see," she instructed as she moved his hands away. "You're fine, you big baby," she said before she kissed the tip of his nose. House looked down.

"Well, Little Greg isn't."

She followed his gaze. "Wow. Guess I really need to make you feel better, huh?" He glanced up at her. "Lie back," she said with a smirk.

As she trailed kisses down his navel, he told her, "By the way, I forgive you." She chuckled and wrapped her lips around him.


	20. Did You Get My Letter?

Hello everyone! Here's the longest drabble yet (probably), which I pretty much wrote while I was waiting for my meal to heat up (I do find time to write!). It's an AU Broken that pretty much ignores canon.

Thank you for the feedback you left last time! I hope you'll enjoy this one.

 **20\. Did you get my letter?**

As far as Cuddy knew, House didn't write letters – except when it was part of a prank, or when he found a way to cleverly insult her and/or the patients while demanding to be exempted from clinic duty for the ten following years.

That's why she was surprised to find a letter from him in her mailbox, ten days after he was admitted into Mayfield.

In the first letter, he told her he was sorry about the whole thing, and that rehab sucked.

In the second letter, he told her about the other patients – especially his roommate, Alvie – and how bored he was because he'd figured all of them in ten minutes.

In the third letter, he told her about his psychiatrist, Nolan, who had been giving him placebos all the while he was convinced _he_ was playing _him_. Just as Cuddy told herself he'd finally found a physician worth his respect, she got to the line where he wrote "although he still thinks he's an actual doctor".

There were more.

He told her he was bored to tears, he told her he'd just gained visitation privileges, and he told her the visiting hours were from 3 to 6pm on Saturdays.

Which, in House language, meant 'Come visit me'.

* * *

When Nolan told him that Doctor Cuddy had called, asking if it was okay to come over and see him, House tried to play it cool.

Which he also did as he sat on the piano bench, scanning the faces of the visitors as they entered the room.

And when he saw her, clad in a flowing summer dress, he couldn't help but break into a grin.

She walked towards him and he stood up. They smiled at each other, unsure as to what to say.

He pointed at her straight hair. "Since –"

She blushed. "Just a few days. I'm trying it out. You, too."

"Yeah, they buzz your hair on the first day so you don't tear it off when you're in withdrawal."

"Oh."

He smirked. "I'm kidding." He motioned towards the bench, sat beside her, which left them fairly isolated from the other visitors. "How's Rachel?"

"Wow," she chuckled. "They have you on some really good stuff here." He didn't reply. "She's fine, House."

"I meant to say… I'm sorry I insulted her. And you," he said, looking into her eyes.

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"It kind of was."

She smiled. "Well, I accept your apology."

"Thank you."

More bashful smiles. More staring into each other's eyes.

"You look tired," he said, hoping to lift up this sudden loaded mood. It worked; she flooded the entire room with her laugh.

"Only you would say this while in rehab."

"I'm healthy as a horse!"

"I can see that." He smirked. "If you must know," she explained, rather reluctantly. But she thought he should know. "I had drinks with a friend yesterday night."

"Someone I know?"

"Lucas, actually."

His face fell the tiniest bit. "And?"

She shrugged. "I don't like him that much."

That seemed to reassure him. "Did you get my letters?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"So all it took for you to come visit me was three weeks and half a dozen letters?" he quipped. "Nice."

"Don't be like that," she said with a frown. "I was afraid I would… interfere."

"Well, you don't." She smiled. They'd scooted closer to each other while they were talking, their shoulders almost touching now. "Wilson didn't even visit."

"He's pissed cuz you didn't write him any letters."

He arched an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"House, you called him _once_! And it wasn't even out of the goodness of your heart."

"Yeah well, he needs some tough love."

"They let you play?" she asked, gesturing towards the piano.

"Not at first. I had help."

"Another patient?"

"A visitor, actually. She's the sister in law of the woman over there."

"Oh. A woman," she observed, hoping she didn't sound as dejected as she was.

"Don't worry. Catatonia isn't really my thing," he said with a wink.

"I didn't mean –"

"I know what you meant. And I don't like her that much."

She smiled.

They talked more, until it was time for the visitors to go.

"Well, looks like it's closing time. Wanna have a last drink at my place?" he teased.

"Oh, I don't know if I should," she said, playing along. "I've got work tomorrow."

"It's Saturday."

"Oops."

They stood there awkwardly, until she caved and decided to give him a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, oblivious to Alvie exclaiming in the background that, yo, House had a girlfriend. He felt the tremor of her chuckle against his chest.

"It was good to see you, House. You look better. Healthy," she told him as she pulled away. "I'm happy you're doing this for you."

"I'm not the only reason I'm doing this." Her breath caught in her throat. "I mean, Taub would be devastated if I lost my medical licence."

She laughed. "Right."

"Will you visit me again?"

"I will."

In the end, it didn't matter, because Nolan released him that Monday.


	21. Sweet Dreams

Hello everyone! Here's a tiny little something that I've cooked up for you over the weekend.

It's set in the season 4 finale. I was yet again inspired by tumblr (I may or may not spend too much time on this website these days); I saw a gifset of the scene when House goes to bed and I thought, "hey, Cuddy tucking him in would actually be cute", and since I was able to find a prompt that fit, well...

I hope you'll enjoy this one, and see you soon!

 **21\. Sweet dreams.**

"The other nurse always used to tuck me in," House said as he settled in bed.

She thought of a witty comment, something about keeping a shotgun in her lap; but then her mind flashed to what he'd been through these last few hours. The man had been in a bus accident, and even with a fractured skull, he was striving to remember who the hell the mysterious, sick passenger was. She felt a pang of tenderness for him and, even though a little voice in her head kept telling her to keep it professional, she took a step towards him.

Surprise crossed his features for a second, and he seemed inordinately pleased with himself.

Cuddy took hold of his sheet – his surprisingly soft sheet, she might add, for someone who didn't bother to iron his shirt – and pulled it up to his chest. Due to her high heels, she had to bend at the waist to tuck him in, and House didn't miss the occasion to ogle at her chest.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

He laid his head on the pillow. She couldn't resist sitting on the edge of the bed, right beside him.

"Alright?" she asked him. He nodded.

"The other nurse used to kiss me goodnight, too," he said as he puckered his lips.

She chuckled. "I'll bet she did." She'd hired an experienced, no-bullshit nurse, and had made sure House wouldn't find her pretty. Making a decision based on what the woman looked like went against her principles, but the last thing she needed was an employee suing for sexual harassment.

And yet, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his for a few seconds.

"Sweet dreams, House," she whispered before she stood up and headed out. "By the way, in case you were thinking of joining me," she added as she reached the doorway. "I'll be on the couch. With a shotgun in my lap."

She saw him smirk before she switched the light off.


	22. I Did The Dishes

Hello everyone! It has been... A very long time. But I am back with a drabble! Sadly, this is all I have at the moment, but I'll be done with my exams next Thursday, and then I get three weeks off. Hopefully I will be able to write as much as possible!

I wrote this one a few weeks (months?) ago. It's set in season 7, and as I was never fully satisfied with it, I delayed publishing it, until I realised I'd never want to work on it again. So, here it is. I hope you'll still enjoy it!

 **22\. I did the dishes.**

Cuddy parked her car in her driveway, shut the door behind her, and locked it before she dragged herself to her front door.

The first thing she did as she walked into the hallway, was step out of her stilettos. She then slowly sank to the floor, leaning her back against the door. Although the kitchen was the only room casting its light into the dim hallway, she clenched her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands, trying to ease the headache pushing against her temples. When she managed to focus on something other than the buzzing sound in her head, she was aware of how quiet the house was, except for her boyfriend munching on cereals in the kitchen – _at ten P.M.?_

"Hi," he said, suddenly standing beside her. She didn't move her hands, heard his spoon scrape the inside of his yogurt cup.

"Hi."

"Do you want me to heat you up some leftovers?"

She shook her head. "I ate at the hospital."

House sat beside her, finished his yogurt. "Rachel is in bed. We had dinner. She brushed her teeth and everything." Cuddy acquiesced. "I did the dishes."

She grinned, pulled her hands back. "I'm so tired."

He motioned for her to curl up against him, which she did, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She hadn't been home in two days, the result of a crisis which had resulted in a tragic amount of paperwork.

She thought of the few times she'd spent countless hours at the hospital, before Rachel. She would take quick naps on her couch, and only go back home once the problem had been solved. She would walk out of the hospital exhausted, but also happy and proud; she was dedicated, determined, and good at her job. An accomplished woman, in short.

Her confidence would entirely dissolve when she walked into her empty house, with no children to run into her arms and no husband to greet her and tell her dinner was ready.

After she adopted Rachel, she made a point to come home every night before her child was asleep. There were days when she would leave the hospital wishing she had gotten a lot more done, dreading the amount of leftover work awaiting her the next morning. Although her baby was the love of her life, her top priority, sometimes she couldn't help but feel a little bit torn – and then, she would curse herself for feeling this way.

But now that House was here… She could do both.

She could stay a few extra hours at the hospital, knowing that her child was safe and in good hands. And when she was certain the hospital would be running smoothly without her for a few hours, she could come home to her family.

So no, it wasn't a white picket fence with the perfect husband, three kids and a Labrador thrown in. It wasn't the family she'd used to dream of. But she had everything she needed.

"I'm glad you're here," she said with a contented sigh.

"Wow. I think that's the first time I'm hearing this." She chuckled. He kissed the top of her head.

"I'm serious. You may not be the perfect boyfriend," she rambled sleepily, her eyes still closed. "but I'm glad you're here. I don't tell you that nearly enough."

"Can I have that on tape?" he cracked, grateful that she couldn't see him blush like a schoolgirl.


	23. It's Not Heavy I'm Stronger Than I Look

Hello everyone!

First off: I wish you all a very happy new year! Thank you for sticking with me all along 2015. (Hopefully 2016 is the year that will see the epilogue of From The Cradle To The Grave!) Thank you for your feedback, for adding my story/ies into your favourites and/or alerts, for just reading. It really means a lot to me, and I will never tire of saying it.

Now onto the drabble: it's set in season seven. And... I can't remember what inspired it. It just sort of happened.

Well, I hope you'll enjoy this one. See you guys later!

 **23.** **It's not heavy. I'm stronger than I look.**

Cuddy sighed.

The guy rarely ever helped her with groceries, but when he did, there was always that one item that ended up on the top shelf – in this case, it was the flour.

She considered climbing on the kitchen counter, or maybe grab a chair and stand on top of it, when said guy limped in and opened the fridge, whistling distractedly.

"House," she called out. "will you get the flour for me?"

He leaned backwards, looked at the open cupboard. "Why d'you put it on the top shelf if you know you can't reach it?"

" _You_ put it there," she replied, mildly irritated. "Remember? Last weekend? You helped me put the groceries away?"

"Oh." He thought about it for a second, closed the fridge door, and hooked his cane on a drawer handle. Just when she thought he'd lift his arm and grab the bag, he bent over, wrapped his arms around her knees, and lifted her instead.

She yelped and grabbed his shoulders. "Put me down!"

"Your ass may be enormous but," he said, his voice muffled by her stomach. "it's not heavy. I'm stronger than I look."

"We're going to fall!"

"Shut up and grab the flour." Cuddy turned towards the cupboard and did as she was told. "Got it?"

"Got it." He set her down on the counter, struggling to catch his breath. She chuckled and put two fingers on his carotid.

"Stronger than you look, huh? 'You okay?" He nodded. "Oh, House. Is there anything that you do like a normal person?"

"Well, certain things, yes," he said as he stepped between her legs and leaned towards her. He kissed her smile and she eagerly responded when he deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in her hair. He pulled her against him, his hands wandering across her back. He eventually pulled away, and touched the tip of her nose with his fingertip.

"What…" Out of the tail of her eye, she noticed the bag of flour sitting beside her, torn open. As she painfully understood what he'd just done, she craned her neck and caught a glimpse of the white streaks on her black sweater. "You little shit," she gasped. House raised his hands and limped away with a wink. "You can't outrun me!" she exclaimed as she dipped her hands in the bag of flour.

"Can't blame a cripple for trying!" Cuddy jumped after him and managed to wipe her hands on the back of his shirt just as he exited the kitchen – and swatted his backside for good measure.


	24. You're Warm

You guys! Hello! How have you been?

I'm back with another drabble! It is pretty short, but there may be a longer one coming up in a few days.

If you're looking for more House/Cuddy/Rainy weekend things, may I suggest _Rain, Rain, Go Away_ by cryptictac, which is one of my favourites? fanfiction dot net /s/4967424/

Alright, I'll leave you guys to it. Don't hesitate to leave a review on your way out! They always make my day ;)

 **24.** **You're warm.**

"'You getting up?"

House forced his eyes open, only to find that Cuddy had pulled the curtains open, revealing a devastatingly bright daylight. _It could have been worse_ , he realised as he heard the rain pound heavily against the window. She could have woken him up with the glaring sun.

"It's 8 am on a Sunday morning," he replied drowsily. "And it's raining. It's not a day I want to spend out of bed."

He felt her kiss his forehead before she left the room, and he moved his head onto her pillow, barely aware of the blissful fact that he was going back to sleep, sprawled onto his stomach.

Cuddy, always the early riser, had been awake around seven. She'd completed her yoga routine, hoovered around the house – which her boyfriend had seemingly not heard, bless him – and was now making breakfast. She got a pot of coffee started, hoping the smell would entice House out of bed, but she knew full well that he wouldn't join her until at least noon.

She sat at the kitchen table however, ate her cereals and sipped her tea, enjoying the quietness. The rain hadn't let on, and she instinctively pulled her oversized cardigan tighter against her frame.

Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the fact that her mind kept drifting to her lover's warm arms just a few feet away, but it felt impossible to stand up and catch up on work. It would be raining all day, she figured, and getting a laundry started would be a waste of time. Taking a walk or gardening was out of the question, too. A shower didn't appeal to her in the least. She was filled with something halfway between peace and weariness – maybe it was a mix of both – and all she wanted to do was to sit back and make the most of it.

House was briefly awoken by Cuddy crawling back into bed.

"You were right," she said as she settled on her flank, facing him, and pulled the covers above her shoulders. As they shared her pillow, he felt her warm breath sweep his cheek. "It's not a day that should be spent out of bed."

"'Told you." He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her closer to his chest.

"Oh, you're warm," she sighed contentedly.

No, she wouldn't be getting out of bed that morning.


	25. I Made This For You

Hello!

I would like to thank each and every one of you for the feedback you left last time. One drabble every four weeks or so doesn't do you justice, and I can't tell you how much your kind words mean to me. Thank you!

In the meantime, here is another drabble for you guys. It's set somewhere in 7.02, and it was prompted by the patient - Alice Tanner - asking if Cuddy's perfume was a gift from House because it was "all over him last night" (it always gives me butterflies just to think about it, by the way). It's rated T for sexual-ish situations. Hope you enjoy! ;)

 **25.** **I made this for you.**

They looked into each other's eyes, his forehead against hers, before her eyelids fell shut and her head fell back and they came undone together – sharing this with her always brought him more satisfaction than an orgasm given by experienced and professional hands ever did.

House collapsed on top of her for a moment, just enough time for him to regain his senses and roll onto his flank, bringing her with him, limbs still tangled up and his pubis pressed against hers. Her laboured breathing swept the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. He pushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes were still closed and an open-mouthed smile adorned her flushed face and he couldn't resist kissing her forehead, before he slipped a hand in her hair while he let his fingertips roam across her ribs.

She grinned against the roughness of his stubble – Greg House, misanthropic and sarcastic ass, liked to cuddle after sex. Who would have thought?

The same thing could be said about her, she mused as she began to draw mindless patterns across his wide, muscular chest – Lisa Cuddy, ruthless dean of Medicine, liked to cuddle after sex.

She let her thoughts wander for a while, focused on him and the intimacy they just shared – just like he did, she was sure, else he wouldn't have just sighed contentedly into her scalp – before the hospital and her daughter came running back into her mind. He sensed it – how could he not? The guy could read her like an open book – slipped out of her and disentangled their limbs ever so slightly, allowing her to glance at the clock over his shoulder.

She sighed. She knew she would be missing Rachel's bedtime, which never pleased her, but it didn't make her want to go home either.

 _It would be so much easier if she just let me inside her home_ , he thought.

"I should get going," she whispered, her voice still hoarse. "The nanny's leaving in half an hour."

He smirked at her, propping himself onto his elbow, inordinately glad that she wanted to stay here with him.

She'd come to recognize this look on his face. "You slipped the nanny a few extra bucks." He nodded. "How much time do we have?"

"One hour."

She grinned, pulled him down to her lips. "You're gonna make her a millionaire," she said. "Careful, or she won't need to work for me anymore."

"Guess I'll just have to babysit for you then," he mumbled against her mouth. She chuckled.

"If you babysit, how are we supposed to have sex?"

They kissed for a little while, and it still surprised her that things didn't heat up right away – the man had the libido of a teenager, but he took the time to kiss her. Boy, did he kiss her. Like he could never get enough of her, which always made her heart flutter and her toes curl.

He abruptly pulled away and shuffled into his nightstand drawer, leaving her frowning. "I almost forgot," he said as he handed her a slim, tall bottle. "Here. I made this for you."

Her brow furrowed further as she examined the bottle, and found no label. She sat up and didn't pull the sheet with her, like she used to on their first days together. He didn't pass up the opportunity to contemplate her breasts bathed in the warm glow of his bedside lamp. "I don't understand. You made this?" He nodded. "What's in it, hydrogen sulfide?"

He smirked. "Good idea, but I promise it's safe. You know that perfume you liked, a few years ago, which they discontinued?" She acquiesced. "I had it custom made."

Her jaw dropped, and she eagerly sprayed some of the perfume into her wrist; fresh and exotic, with a sugary whiff of roasted coconut and a hint of citrus.

"Wow. This takes me back," she said with a small laugh. "You had it made from memory?" He nodded. "How? When? Why?"

"Do you like it?"

"It's slightly creepy, but I'm touched." She looked into his eyes, an erubescent smile stretching across her face. "Thank you, House."

He felt the need to deflect, a little too overwhelmed with emotions he couldn't name for his liking. "Now what could you possibly do to thank me?" he said as he sprawled spreadeagle onto the bed.

"We've got one hour, right?"

He beamed.

* * *

 _Happy birthday to MajorThompson! ;) I hope you're having a great one!_

 _See you guys next time!_


	26. We'll Figure It Out

Hello everyone!

Here's a new drabble for you - it's set in the season seven finale, and was inspired by staring at a gifset on tumblr for, like, twenty minutes.

I didn't watch the episode again though (I doubt I ever will), so I might have gotten some details wrong. Sorry about that! I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless.

Also, there's a couple more drabbles coming up soon... So I promise I won't disappear for a couple months again. ;)

See you guys soon, and thank you for reading!

 **26\. We'll figure it out.**

"Do you wanna know how I feel?" he yelled into her face as he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall. His warm breath swept her cheeks and for a split second, she was afraid of him – before she opened her eyes, and saw in his own everything he'd hidden behind pranks, prostitutes and a green card wife.

It was like looking at herself in a mirror.

His anger dissolved just as quickly as it had erupted, and he finally admitted to her how hurt he felt.

She had been trying to have this discussion, to jolt a reaction from him, for days – well, she got what she'd wished for.

She saw the extent of the damage she'd done, and it broke her heart a little bit more than she expected.

She got him to release her arm from his death grip. He held her so tightly, she could swear he knew it was the last time they would share such an intimate moment.

But then he decided to absolve her. It wasn't until he lifted the weight of her guilt off her heart that she remembered about her own pain.

She had been hiding things, too.

"Wait."

He stopped in his tracks, but did not turn around, his head hanging low.

"Do you wanna know how _I_ feel?" she asked softly. "Without you, I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't work." She sighed and let a tear escape, feeling suddenly a ton lighter – she could finally breathe. "God, I miss you."

He didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes.

They didn't make sense when they were apart.

They could be anything; ranging from sworn enemies to passionate lovers, from something as clearly defined as friends to a more elusive relationship. Anything but without each other. They needed to be in each other's life, and it was as simple as that.

She took a step toward him. "Will you take me back?"

He turned to her the slightest bit – enough for her to make out the tip of his nose and his eyelashes. "Will you forgive me?"

His question revealed dozens more in its wake. Would she forgive him? Would he forgive her? Would they move on past this crisis? Would they make more efforts to make it work this time? Was it going to work out at all? Was this all for nothing?

"We'll figure it out," was her answer to all of those questions.

He turned around and looked at her, not entirely convinced – but it was a start.

"Do you wanna come over for dinner tonight?" she asked. "Rachel is at my mother's."

"I know." She smiled, delighted that he'd cared enough to remember. "I'd love to," he told her, with all the sincerity he was capable of.

"Good."

He nodded. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, butterflies dancing around in their stomachs, before a coworker strolling past them shook them out of their contemplation.

"I'll see you tonight."

"Okay."

They both turned away and walked back to work, feeling just a little lighter than before.


	27. I'll See You Later

Hi everyone!

Thank you sooo very much for the feedback you left last time! I can't tell you how glad I am that you enjoyed it.

Here's a new one - it's set at the end of Lockdown. (6.1... something?) I hope you will like it, too!

 **27.** **I'll see you later.**

"Sorry I couldn't call earlier," Cuddy said into her cell phone. "A baby went missing at the hospital. We were on lockdown for a few hours."

"Well, you missed out on the amazing broccoli lasagna I'd cooked for our night off," Lucas replied. "Ate it all by myself."

"Couldn't you wait? It's only eleven."

"I was starving! And you didn't call, so I guessed you had a work emergency or something and it would take all night."

She sighed. "Well, I did find the baby, and it's kind of a crazy story actually, the nurse who was in charge of replacing the towels had a series of seizures all day and –"

"Uh huh," was her boyfriend's distracted reply. She pictured him sprawled on the couch, watching one of his dumb TV shows while he was talking to her. Which was just as well, since she didn't have it in her to explain to him the science of complex seizures and brain physiology.

"Anyway, I'll just grab something to eat on my way home."

"Okay. I waited up all night and I'm exhausted. I'll be in bed."

She didn't bother answering, and hung up. Shaking her head, she slipped her jacket on, pulled her hair out of the collar, and left her office. As she made her way out of the lobby, she caught a glimpse of House limping in the same direction as her.

"Wow," House exclaimed as their paths naturally merged together, like an old habit. In fact, bumping into each other as they walked out of the hospital had been quite common, until House had found out about Lucas. Cuddy took a deep breath, revelling in this now rare occasion to walk with him for a bit. "You look awful. Rough night?"

"Ugh, tell me about it. A newborn went missing."

"Ah, hence the code seven and everything."

"Yeah, actually, Nurse Adrienne – you know Nurse Adrienne?"

"Nope. Probably insulted her or her parents at some point, though."

"Right, well – she had a pilomotor seizure when we were looking for the baby." They pushed the door open and headed to the parking lot. "So I thought she must have had complex seizures all day and nobody had noticed, and that she'd inadvertently taken the baby when she changed the towels in the mom's room. Well, guess what? Found the baby in a laundry cart."

He nodded, looked at her with a smile. "Good catch. Super Administrator Cuddy saved the day again. You should be on my team."

She had a small laugh. "So where were you all night?"

"Coma ward," he shrugged. "Just watched TV."

"Right."

"Shame I wasn't locked in a supply closet with you, though."

They reached their cars. "I assume you won't be in till noon tomorrow?"

"You assume right. Gotta make up for all the extra hours you've made me put in tonight."

"Poor you, TV must have been exhausting," she chuckled, and only then did she realise that they'd somehow unconsciously invaded each other's personal space.

They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds, and she felt herself reacting to the magnetic pull his body has always had on her.

House slipped his thumb under her chin and lifted her face towards him. "I'll see you later," he said, before dragging her lower lip down with his knuckle, and kissing it softly.

When she opened her eyes again, he was walking away.


	28. Stay Over

Hi everyone!

This is an AU end of Joy, aka one of the episodes of the Holy Trinity (along with Help Me and Now What, obvs). This episode is already perfect to me, but even when I'd seen it for the first time, I had imagined that House had stayed. (I wasn't entirely sure that I'd heard the door close at the end of the episode. Didn't sleep much that night. :o) And of course, back then, I was an innocent soul who waited to see the episodes on French TV every Tuesday nights!)

Also, I had to look up how tall and heavy Hugh Laurie was ("How much does Hugh Laurie weigh" isn't even in the Top 5 of My Weirdest Google Searches, though.) Of course, you shouldn't believe everything that you see on the Internet, but I thought it should give me a pretty good idea of the guys' stature.

Thank you for the reviews you left last time! I hope you will enjoy this one as well.

 **28.** **Stay over.**

"Goodnight," he whispered, his lips pink and swollen from their kiss, before turning away and heading to her front door.

It took her a few seconds to be aware of her surroundings again, but she still had time to call out his name before he could open the door and leave. "Stay over."

His shoulders slumped. Although he didn't turn around to face her, he didn't leave, either.

"I'm not asking you to do or say anything," Cuddy said, understanding that comforting her would be no easy task for him. "Just to stay over for the night and sleep with me." She half expected him to look at her with a lecherous smirk or throw a sarcastic comment, but he didn't, so she pretended he did. "I mean really sleep. I can't be alone tonight."

Joy had slipped out of her mind the second he'd dived for her lips, his eyes still riveted to hers. She'd held onto his mouth as though it were her lifeline.

At last, he turned to her, and it was the only answer she needed.

She walked down the hallway, the uneven cadence of his footfalls following her. "I have pajamas and an extra toothbrush for you," she said, which she handed to him before she slipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and change into her flannel pajamas.

He didn't ask where the pajamas came from, or how come she had an extra toothbrush, and she wasn't going to ask anything from him.

She settled in bed while he used the bathroom, and turned the lights off once he was lying next to her. He smelled of her soap and her detergent.

She was suddenly aware of how much room he took in her bed – all six feet and two inches, and one hundred and eighty seven pounds of him. Suddenly, she couldn't roll around as much as she wanted, or move to the other side when the covers got too warm. And he moved, too. The bed had creaked when he'd climbed in. She hadn't heard that noise in years.

However, as abnormal and weird his presence was, it was also comforting. They'd known each other long enough for the situation not to feel awkward. House laying in her bed was somehow as normal as them bickering in her office or riding the elevator together. And she liked the idea of anchoring herself to the rock that was his massive body, just for that night. She needed the reprieve, before she could stand on her own and face the world again.

She curled up against him, content with the idea that she would sleep with her forehead pressed against his shoulder. However, much to her surprise, he rolled onto his flank and, without questioning it, held her tightly, the same way he'd kissed her; from the bottom of his heart.

It was easier to pretend this wasn't happening if they couldn't see each other, and it would make it even easier to deny it to themselves, and to each other, the morning after at work.

Just like when he'd wrapped an arm around her and pulled her up to him a few minutes earlier, she couldn't remember a time when she'd felt more safe and protected.

She held him back with her free arm, buried her face in his chest, and drifted off to sleep in a few minutes.


	29. You Might Like This

Hi everyone!

Here's a new drabble - it's set at the end of 5.12 "Painless" (there's a few seconds in the final montage where you see Cuddy at her desk late at night, with her baby beside her). Now I hadn't seen the Baby Rachel Episodes in a while, and forgotten that House was frankly not supportive of Cuddy in 5.13, soooo I guess that makes this drabble a little AU-ish?

I'll let you read now - thank you for the reviews you left last time! I hope you will enjoy this one as well ;)

 **29.** **You might like this.**

"Cure your patient yet?" Cuddy asked as House opened the door of her office.

"Yup. Abdominal epilepsy. Pain started in his testicles," he explained, one foot still out the door.

"Great," she said, stifling a yawn while somehow simultaneously looking at both her daughter and the paperwork she was working on. "Means I won't have to manage you during the next couple days. I could really use the break."

Much to her chagrin, House decided to actually walk into the room and plump down in one of the chairs facing her desk, dropping his backpack on the table – just for the sake of annoying her, no doubt. "Had an epiphany when I saw my plumber scratch his balls. A pipe burst above my bedroom the other night and this moron claimed it was due to negligence so I tried to – wow," he whistled as she dropped her pen and rubbed her face. "Little Gremlin here is _really_ cutting into your beauty sleep."

"Her name is Rachel," she said listlessly. "And shut up."

He watched her try to resume working, but she couldn't stay focused long enough to make sense of whatever she was reading. She sighed and picked up Rachel instead, gently nestling her into the crook of her arm, and rocked her for a little while.

"I can't do this," she whispered eventually, caressing her chubby, rosy cheek with the back of her finger.

"Well, you technically haven't adopted her yet. You can still –"

"Shut up, she's my kid," she interrupted him, firmer this time. "Nothing will ever change that. Ever."

He let it go and just observed her. In the twenty years he'd known her, he had seen her beaten and knocked down too many times to count. He had seen the promise of a one hundred million dollars donation to her hospital vanish in front of her eyes, seen her recover from several failed IVFs, and the loss of a child not so long ago.

But the woman had always taken a couple of days to lick her wounds, and get back up, ready to face the world again.

He'd seen how hesitant she was when she picked up Rachel, fearing she'd drop her or maybe break her in two, and he thought of all the times he'd seen her pop dislocated shoulders back into place, or insert a spinal needle in between a patient's lumbar vertebrae, like she'd been doing it for a thousand years. It had been over a week, and she'd never looked more exhausted – hell, he even had time to see her eyes mist up with tears, before she got a grip on herself again.

"I'm two days behind on work," she spoke up then, her eyes still riveted to Rachel. "My nanny is sick, my house is a mess. I sleep four hours a night and I still don't have enough time to take care of everything."

"So, it's a challenge. You like challenges. You already liked them back in the day. Always trying to prove me wrong." They shared a tiny smile over the memory of their college days. "You might like this."

She contemplated the soft features of her daughter's face. "Yeah."

"Get some sleep. Get another nanny. Get –"

Her eyes popped open – though he thought it was kind of hard to tell, with that new haircut of hers – and she looked up at him.

"That's right. An interim dean. I just need a few days off."

"I meant a nanny for your spawn. I still need you to say yes to any crazy procedure I ask for." But he could tell she'd already made her decision, the wheels turning inside her head. "Whatever," he mumbled as he stood back up. "Just pick someone I can manipulate."

She called out his name before he could leave, and motioned to a pile of folders with her chin. "Drop these off at the nurses' station."

"Like I said, you want a man to take your crap, you have to marry him first."

"Why, are you proposing?" she said with a smirk. "Like _I_ said, you also have to employ them."

He smirked back, took the files. "See you bright and early tomorrow!"

She gave a light-hearted chuckle. "No, you won't."


	30. I Was In The Neighbourhood

Hi guys!

Here's a new drabble - it's set at the end of 5.15 "Unfaithful". Now I'm not Jewish, and have never attended a Simchat Bat, so I did some research online. Apologies if you find any inaccuracies.

Please don't hesitate to leave a review on your way out if you enjoyed yourself - always makes my day! ;)

 **30.** **I was in the neighbourhood.**

Cuddy had just put her daughter to sleep when she heard the distinctive noise of a sport bike approach her house. Surely enough, the sound of his cane knocking against her door came soon after.

Her heart leapt a little when she opened her front door, and saw House standing there. By the time the twelfth guest or so had arrived, she'd given up all hope to see him at the ceremony. Funny how she didn't realise how badly she wanted him there until he told her he wouldn't be coming at all.

"I was in the neighborhood," was his excuse, which she did not buy for a second.

"Come on in," she said, stepping aside. He followed her into the kitchen, where she began to move the mountains of dirty dishes from the kitchen counter to the dishwasher. "I'd offer you something to drink, but your breath tells me you've already indulged. Coffee?"

"I'm good."

"The ceremony went well," she continued. "We sang, read from the Book of Psalms. We said a prayer of thanksgiving for Natalie, too."

He frowned. "Who?"

"Rachel's birth mom. Your _patient_."

"Oh."

"Dinner went well, too. I think everyone had a good time. Do you want some challah?" she asked, drying her hands with a towel.

"Depends. Did you make it?"

"My mom did."

"I'll have some, then."

She chuckled. He watched her bend over to lift the door of the dishwasher, then bump it shut with her hip. "I'll get you a Tupperware," she said, standing on her toes to open a cupboard. "Rachel wasn't fussy. Everyone thought she was adorable. She's in bed, if you want to see her. You know the way," she offered, suspecting that his late night visit was his own way of attending her Simchat Bat.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't pretend to protest at all, and headed straight to the nursery. Cuddy decided to give him a few minutes with her, cutting slices of bread for him. But when she put the lid on the plastic container, curiosity got the best of her. She padded down the hall, stopping in the doorway of Rachel's room.

House was standing by the crib, watching her baby sleep. Cuddy was about to turn around and leave, when he finally spoke up. "Welcome to this cruel, sick, twisted world. It's a shitty place to live in, but I trust your mom will do her best to make it bearable at the very least."

She grinned.

"Your mom has waited a long time, and has been through a lot, just to have you. So don't be too hard on her. Eat your vegetables and, I don't know, do your homework."

She headed back to the kitchen before he could see her, and handed him his slices of challah once he'd joined her again. "Here. Dip it in honey."

"Thanks. You know, you're suddenly embracing your heritage because of your fear of the unknown," he added. She rolled her eyes, pretended to be offended by his disregard of her religion. "You'll be fine." He slipped the box into his leather jacket, zipped it close. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. House," she called out as he limped to the front door. He turned around. "Thank you for dropping by."

He nodded, and left.


	31. Well, What Do You Want To Do?

Hi everyone!

Here's a new drabble. It's set in 7.09 'Larger Than Life'. I've been wanting to add a (smutty) scene to this episode for a little while now, but always lacked the motivation and/or inspiration. I thought a drabble could be perfect... It's rated T for sexual situations.

To the guest who reviewed Breaktime not long ago: I'm currently working on three new chapters at the same time. So don't worry, even if I take forever to update it, this story is far from over ;p

I'll let you read now. Hope you enjoy! :)

 **31\. Well, what do you want to do?**

"Should we wash the coffee mugs, too?" House asked as he handed Cuddy the last plate, which she put away in the overhead cabinet.

"No, they may want to finish their coffee when they wake up." She closed the cupboard, and leaned back against the sink. "How long do you think they'll be unconscious for?"

"One hour, maybe. I dosed your mom so that we could put her to bed at a reasonable time."

"How thoughtful of you." They looked at each other, enjoyed the silence for a second. "Well, what do you want to do?" she asked, a seductive grin adorning her face.

House returned her smile, and stepped towards her so that he could wrap his arms around her. "We did the dishes."

"Rachel's already in bed." Her hands caressed their way up his arms and to his neck.

"I don't suppose you want any coffee."

They shared a smile, and Cuddy pushed gently on the back of his neck so that their lips could meet. They kissed gently and quietly for a few minutes, his hands bringing her closer to him. They rarely got to share quiet, peaceful moments together, and they made the best of it; until they pulled away and she rested her forehead against his cheek, his arms draped loosely around her hips.

"I must say, I'm actually quite relieved," she admitted with a sigh.

"God, me too. I thought I was gonna lose it when she started insulting you."

"About that." She looked up at him. "I'd rather not know what you were going to say, but thank you for coming to my rescue. And, although you did drug my mom and your best friend, I'm glad you held your tongue and behaved well. Mostly."

"Well, you know me. I only did it to get into your pants."

She chuckled. "Again, even though Wilson and I had to trick you into it, thank you for coming."

"That's what she said."

But Cuddy didn't chuckle this time – as a pang of tenderness and carnal hunger for him coursed through her, she slowly began to unbutton his pink shirt instead. "Is it what _I'm_ going to be saying in a few minutes, though?"

And just like that, the flirty, cuddly mood between them vanished. House grabbed her under her thighs, and sat her on the edge of the sink, peeling off her top before she could kiss him. His hands and mouth were all over her and suddenly, her gold necklace felt cool on her sternum.

"Shouldn't we close the door or something?" he asked, unbuttoning her pants.

"They're unconscious," was all she could manage to say, reaching for his face.

"Kinky," he said against her lips, before kissing her deeply as he tangled his hands in her hair. Cuddy let her head roll onto his shoulder as he endeavoured to give her neck all the affection it deserved, and found herself staring straight at her blissfully unaware mother's face – mouth half-opened and all.

"Maybe I should face the other way," she said with a wince.

"Maybe I should distract you," House replied as he slipped his hand into her pants.

She half-gasped, half-moaned, her eyelids falling shut. _Yes, that could work._


	32. Go Back To Sleep

Hi everyone!

Here is a quick drabble for you. My apologies for not being able to update this sooner - what was the point of failing med school if I don't get any more free time, right?

This one is set somewhere in season 7. I hope that you'll enjoy it. And I'll see you soon with more drabbles!

 **32\. Go back to sleep.**

His feet ached. So did his knees. And his back. His shoulders. His neck. His eyes felt raw from staring at his computer screen, his muscles were sore from being hunched over his desk, and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep.

The thought that maybe he'd grown too old to stay at the hospital two nights in a row mulling over a case crossed his mind when he let himself into Cuddy's house at three in the morning. The throbbing pain in his leg was the only thing diverting him from his initial path to their bedroom. Ibuprofen had barely made a dent, and he needed to soak his leg in warm water if he wanted to be able to get any sleep.

Closing the door in order not to wake Cuddy up, House filled the tub and lowered himself into the bath, leaving the lights off so that he wouldn't strain his eyes any further. The hot water, in addition to the ibuprofen he'd taken earlier, did wonders to his leg, and to all of his muscles; he was in a state of utter peace when he joined Cuddy in bed. His body didn't feel so battered and broken anymore, and he longed for nothing more than to curl up under his lover's warm comforter, and drift to sleep.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, cleansing sigh, sheathed by a soothing warmth from head to toe. Cuddy rolled towards him, croaking a sleepy "Hi".

"Go back to sleep," he whispered, laying one of his hands on her back. Sleep won over him before he could know whether she'd followed his advice.

* * *

Although he didn't hear her get up and shower in the morning, Cuddy kissing his forehead before she left for work definitely wrested him from his slumber – just enough for him to vaguely grasp in his hypnopompic confusion at where her body should have been.

"Go back to sleep," she whispered, tenderly caressing his scalp. He did as he was told, burying his nose in her pillow, briefly aware that he was one lucky bastard.


	33. I Made Your Favourite

Hi everyone! Here's a new drabble set in season 7. I'm pretty sure it's a favourite of mine. I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Before I let you read: unfortunately, I don't have as much time to write as I thought I would have this year, which means I can't update my stories as often as I'd like... (although I do have a couple more drabbles in stock, for now!) But your feedback always keeps me going. Thank you. Thank you.

 **33\. I made your favourite.**

Hearing soft, padded footsteps down the hall – her footfalls did not quite carry the same magnitude without her heels, but he would always recognize her cadence – House turned away from the whiteboard just in time to see his girlfriend make her way into his dimly lit office. He looked at her from head to toe; she was clad in an oversized hoodie and yoga pants, and had pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Evidently, she'd tried to sleep but never managed to. Since she was wearing one of his sweaters, he knew she'd been missing him. Rachel being at her grandmother's house, it had made it even easier for her to decide to drive to the hospital in the middle of the night and bring him a sandwich.

Well, at least his deduction skills were intact. But it still didn't help him figure out what was wrong with his patient.

Cuddy handed him the Tupperware containing a Reuben sandwich – which he, again, deduced when she told him "I made your favorite."

He thanked her with a nod, appreciating the gesture – dinner had slipped his mind somehow. Cuddy leaned against his desk and shoved her tiny hands into the enormous pockets, glancing at the whiteboard he had moved beside his desk chair.

He gave her a quick glance – odd to see her here, in those clothes. Now that he practically lived with her, he knew there were two Cuddys – one at the hospital who wore heels and power suits and was always perfectly made up, who handled every single crisis with brio and kept the hospital running, and another at home who wore messy ponytails, yoga pants and her real face, wrinkles and bags under her eyes included, who laughed with him and nestled her feet under a pillow when she watched TV on the couch. Suddenly, he was reminded that his boss and his girlfriend were, in fact, the same person.

"What do you see?" he asked her.

She contemplated the array of symptoms he'd jotted down on the board as the hours had gone by. She could tell by the arrows going in different directions and the circles around some of the words that he was at his wits' end. The case _had_ to be solved in the next few hours.

"Ehlers-Danlos."

"No heart murmur." She shrugged. "Nice try, though."

They didn't say anything else, enjoying each other's company in silence – though she suspected that he was too lost in his thoughts to notice she was even there. After all, he was too distracted to touch his sandwich.

She watched him slowly rub the back of his fingers against his chin. He had those little mannerisms when he was deep in thought. He probably never noticed them, but she had memorized and catalogued them all over the years – he'd comment on how bureaucratic of her it is, if he ever found out.

"Shame your patient got worse so fast," she lamented. "We could be in bed right now."

His hand stopped. She saw him tilt his head a little. _And there you have it._

"She wasn't in bed," he repeated, before grabbing his cane and bolting out of the office. "Be home in an hour."

"Aren't you gonna eat my sandwich?" she called out after him with a grin, knowing full well that he wouldn't pay any attention to her. Relieved that he would be heading home right behind her to get some rest, she sat in his desk chair and wrote him a note, which she signed with a C and a little heart, and placed it on top of the Tupperware, right in the centre of his desk.

* * *

Many thanks to arctichamster for sharing a bit of her extensive knowledge of House's sandwich preferences. :o)


	34. Here Drink This You'll Feel Better

Hi guys! I'm back with another drabble. Meant to publish it earlier, but sadly I was too busy fighting off a cold (you'll see the irony of that in a minute) to function...

This one is set in season 7, no episode in particular. (if we agree that season 7 stops right before the final five minutes of Bombshells. Obviously.)

Before I let you read, I would like to thank all of you for your lovely feedback last time. You're amazing.

 **34\. Here, drink this. You'll feel better.**

"I think I'm dying," House informed Cuddy as she walked into their bedroom, carrying a steaming hot mug.

She chuckled, sat beside him on the bed. He'd buried himself under layers of blankets, resting his head on the mountains of pillows she usually used – and which he'd made fun of her about before. "No, you're not."

"I'm a doctor, pretty sure I know what I'm talking about."

"You have a cold!"

"I'm never doing clinic duty again," he said with a pout. "It's too dangerous."

"You haven't been to the clinic in over ten days, much to my despair," she reminded him. "Maybe you wouldn't have caught a cold if you hadn't kept your wet socks on after playing in the snow with Rachel, you big baby." He glanced up at her. "I'm a mom, I know what I'm talking about."

She put her hand over his forehead; the paracetamol she'd given him earlier had worked its magic on his fever, but she barely had time to pull away before he coughed violently into a tissue. Much to her dismay, he tossed the balled up tissue on the floor, right next to half a dozen of them.

"At least the runny nose part is over. You just need to cough it out till you're better."

"Cough it out until I _die_ ," he insisted. She could hear the rattle in his chest as he cleared his throat. "Maybe you should do the Heimlich maneuver on me before I drown in my own mucus." He paused, gave it a thought. "With your breasts pressed against my back."

"Here, drink this," she said as she handed him the mug. "You'll feel better."

"What's in it, strychnine? Cyanide? Hemlock?" he asked as he nevertheless wrapped his hands around the warm cup. "You _must_ put an end to my suffering, Cuddy."

She rolled her eyes. "It's hot milk with honey and cinnamon."

He took a long sip. The warm beverage did wonders to his throat and chest. He swore he could feel his lungs clear up right away – was that even possible? "Yeah, s'not that bad."

Cuddy smirked, caressed his hair as he kept on drinking. "Get some rest," she told him when she plucked the empty mug from his hands.

"Won't you kiss me before you leave?" he asked, puckering his lips.

Cuddy laughed and bolted out of the bed. "Keep your rhinovirus to yourself!" She ducked out of the room just in time to dodge the dirty tissue he threw in her direction.


	35. Watch Your Step

Hi everyone!

I'm back with a new drabble. It's set in no season in particular and it's, er, not the longest drabble ever. But I had this idea in mind (not sure what inspired me?), so... Here it is!

Thank you for reading, and I'll see you soon!

 **35\. Watch your step.**

"I want to cut my patient's eye out," House announced from the bottom of the staircase. Cuddy halted mid-step, which he thought would be her exact same reaction if her grocery bag were to suddenly break open – he made a mental note to let himself into her house later on and mess with said grocery bags.

"It's not even lunch," she sighed as she resumed making her way downstairs. "Will you at least let me get food into –"

She didn't finish her sentence, as her foot somehow didn't reach the last step like she expected it to. She felt her heart skip a beat and saw herself toppling over in slow-motion. However, before she knew it, her hands came in contact with House's arms, which is where she ended up, as he dropped his cane and braced himself against the wall.

They looked into each other's eyes for a second – just standing there, in each other's arms, with his breath sweeping her cheek – before they got a grip on themselves and let go, her feet touching the floor again.

She couldn't quite tell if he meant to catch her or if he'd just instinctively held out his arms but either way, he was quick to deflect it with a joke.

"Watch your step, Cuddy," he told her. "Who do you think the cops will suspect if you suddenly wind up dead with your skull cracked open?" She had a brief chuckle, picked up his cane and gave it back to him. "He has cancer."

"Have you got proof of cancer?"

"Here's the thing, actually, he –"

"You don't have proof, you don't have my signature," she told him as she continued walking to her destination. "Don't follow me," she added, picking up pace, and he listened to her with a discreet smile, accepting his defeat – for now.

* * *

*winks at MajorThompson*


	36. You Can Go First

Hi everyone! Here's a new drabble. It's set in season seven, no episode in particular. Hope you'll enjoy it!

Thank you for reading. I'll see you soon!

 **36\. You can go first.**

"We're getting old, aren't we?"

Cuddy looked up at him. House had just interrupted his search for his reading glasses to inform her of that fact.

"Why? You've got Alzheimer's 'cause you can't find your glasses?"

"No, I'm old _because_ I need my glasses in the first place." He finally located them by the television, slipped them onto his nose and sat back on the couch. Cuddy handed him the magazine he'd abandoned on the coffee table. "I have to face it. I have presbyopia."

"Alright." She put her feet back on his lap, and started fanning herself with her paperback. "You said _we_. So why am I getting old?"

"This." He pointed at her book. "Hot flashes. You're menopausal."

Cuddy froze. There was a pause during which she stared at his face, before she blinked and resumed reading her novel. "Shut up, I'm premenopausal at best."

He frowned. "You didn't know you hit menopause?"

"I _said_ , I'm premenopausal at best."

Her tone left no room for further questions. Arching an eyebrow, House decided to let it go for now, and focused his attention on his article instead.

But of course, he had to find out more when they settled in bed.

"So menopause isn't that bad," he said as she was about to turn off the lights.

She sighed and let her arm drop on the bed, knowing there was no way out of this conversation. She shouldn't have let him see it was bothering her. The man was like a dog with a bone.

"You won't have to deal with your periods anymore. Sure you'll gain some weight, but I'm sure it'll be redistributed nicely," he said, grabbing her hip for emphasis.

Cuddy swatted his hand away. "Will you just shut up?"

"Okay." He raised himself on his elbow. "I'm sure I'm gonna regret asking that, but… what's going on with you?"

Cuddy rolled onto her back, took a deep breath. "If I'm menopausal, I won't have a baby. Ever," she admitted, averting her eyes. "It's over."

"Cuddy, you're barren."

"I am _not_ , I just failed to conceive. Which isn't that surprising, given that the success rate of in-vitro is, like, thirty percent. If I'd had just another chance, maybe I…" The words tumbled out of her month, her throat closing up before she could finish her sentence.

He brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. "I'm sorry, Cuddy," he said with all the sincerity he was capable of.

She shook her head. "Let's just go to sleep. It's late."

Cuddy switched off her bedside lamp, and House did the same. She lay flat on her back but, after a short hesitation, decided to lie on her flank, facing away from him. House did so as well and curled his hand around her hip, though staying at a reasonable distance from her.

He heard her sigh after a few minutes. "House?"

"Yeah?"

"If we're growing old, you can go first."

He chuckled. "Okay. I'll go bald if you want me to."

"No, that's fine. I like your sexy ruffled hair. You can keep it."

He rubbed her iliac crest with his thumb through her camisole, letting silence settle between them for a minute. This time she didn't push his hand away. "I'll go blind," he said quietly. "Use a walker. Or one of those golf carts like those obnoxious people at the supermarket."

She laughed.

Mission accomplished.


	37. I'll Take You To The Hospital

Hi guys!

Remember that last drabble, with Cuddy dealing with menopause? Yeah. Forget about that. Cause this story doesn't make any sense **at all.** (Sorry :3)

So yeah. Thank you for the feedback you left last time! I hope you'll enjoy this drabble, too, even if it contradicts a certain drabble that you might have read already. :D

 **37.** **I'll take you to the hospital.**

When House came home that night, he found Cuddy curled up on the couch, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

"Did I miss Rachel's bedtime?" he asked, abandoning his blue backpack against the wall. His coat made it all the way into the closet, but his sneakers didn't, tucked under the coffee table.

"By half an hour."

He sprawled beside her, noticing the TV wasn't on, and she wasn't reading a book or a magazine; she was nestled into the corner of the couch, her eyes closed, taking up as little space as it was physically possible. "What's up?"

"Waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in," she answered weakly.

"That time of month?" She nodded. "Guess you're closed for business tonight, huh?"

Her eyes popped open. "House, even if I didn't have gallons of blood pouring out of my vagina right now, I'm in too much pain to even _move_ from this couch, let alone have sex with you."

He patted her knee. "Come on, then. I'll take you to the hospital."

She glared at him. Took a sip from her tea.

"That bad?"

"Yeah, that bad."

"Turn away," he told her, taking the mug from her hands and setting it on the coffee table.

"Why?"

"Turn away," he repeated, wiggling his fingers. "Let my hands work their magic on you."

She sighed and did as she was told, facing the window. "I know you. No touching below the belt."

"Promise." He cupped her tiny waist, letting his thumbs rub the small of her back. Cuddy emitted a small moan, but he couldn't tell if it were from relief or discomfort. "How does it feel?"

"Just… Bloated. Raw. Inflamed. I don't know. It just hurts." He nodded. "Didn't have it in me to go get the heating pad."

"Heat helps?"

"Yeah."

He handed her her tea back, blew air into his hands and rubbed them together, before he threaded his way under her sweater and held her waist again. He resumed massaging her lower back for a few minutes, even if he didn't feel her relax much under his touch.

"You don't have to do that," she told him eventually. "Ibuprofen will kick in sooner or later."

"Well, I do admit that helping my girlfriend with her menstrual cramps wasn't exactly what I had in mind for tonight." She had a small smile, which he didn't see. "It's fine. I can just cash in that favor later on. Maybe you can massage my penis."

She turned around. The tight lines around her jaw and eyes had loosened just the tiniest bit.

"Dream on, House."


	38. Happy Birthday

Hi everyone!

Here's a late Christmas present... :D

This one is set in "The Socratic Method", which isn't that Christmas-y if memory serves well. But it is House's birthday (ergo, cause for celebration). And it aired on December 21th, twelve years ago... (feeling old yet?)

Anyway, since French TV started re-airing the show every Monday night (save for today. Ha.), you may expect some drabbles from the past. It's how this one came to life, anyway. Here's to re-airing the old episodes! :D

I'll let you read now - thank you for the feedback you left last time! I hope you guys have a great holiday, and a happy new year if I don't see you till then.

 **38.** **Happy birthday.**

When Cuddy heard knocking on her door at past midnight, her first instinct was to mentally step back into her dean of medicine shoes, knowing who was behind her door, and the reason for it – she'd stopped being surprised by his late night visits long ago. She wrapped her robe around herself, ran her hand through her curls without realising it, and unlocked her front door.

She was only half-right; House _was_ behind the door, but instead of holding up his schizophrenic patient's file, he was holding up a birthday card.

 _Specifically_ , the one she'd written for his birthday. It was nothing too fancy, just a drawing of a cake with a bunch of candles. She'd thought – like an idiot – that it would make him smile, perhaps make him just a little bit happy that she'd remembered. Besides, he was her friend, and friends wrote each other birthday cards all the time, right?

She had ended up scolding herself for still believing after all this time that he was a well-adjusted human being.

"Found this in the trash," he announced with a smirk.

She bit back her smile. "Oh, gee, you caught me. I did something nice for you. How awful."

"Nothing awful in writing someone a birthday card," he said, limping past her and making his way to her kitchen, like he lived here. "Writing someone a birthday card and not giving it to them, on the other hand..."

Cuddy shut her door and followed him. "Oh, spare me. Don't tell me you're taking it personally. You didn't even want the damn card!" She leaned against the doorway, crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, you didn't leave me a choice, so you owe me a drink," he continued as he opened a cupboard, and took out a bottle of wine.

She rolled her eyes at his logic. "Sure. That makes sense. By all means, help yourself."

"Chardonnay? 'This all you have?"

"Liquor store's down the street, you pain in the ass."

House shrugged and grabbed a corkscrew – he found it in the first drawer he pulled open, as though he'd always known it was here – removing the cork with a pop. Amazed by how easily he'd made himself at home in her kitchen, Cuddy was quickly brought back to reality when she saw him lift the bottle to his mouth. She quickly grabbed a glass and shoved it in his hand.

"Not indulging?" he asked.

"Have you looked at the time? It's midnight. Technically, it's not even your birthday anymore."

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking his question again.

"No, House, I'm going to bed in a few."

His other eyebrow went up, as did the corners of his mouth.

" _Alone_ ," she added with a smirk. "Some people actually work in the morning."

"Killjoy."

"You wanted to sleep with me, you should have come over while it was still your birthday." House turned to her with a shocked look on his face. She laughed. "You're so easy."

"You're a _mean_ killjoy."

Cuddy watched him pour himself a glass, bring it to his lips. He let the wine settle on his tongue for a second – she swore she could taste it just by looking at him – and swallowed it, his Adam's apple bobbing. Her eyes followed a trail from his throat to his jawline, his stubble, his short nose and his chickenpox scar, his ocean blue eyes and his long lashes, his seemingly permanent frown, and… his receding hairline.

She wondered if she'd ever have the occasion to touch his fluffy, thick hair again, before the years took it away from her. It was already greying at the temples, after all. Not that there was much hair around his temples anyway...

She tried to imagine what he would look like with a bald spot.

She wondered if he'd still be around for her to see it.

So she did just that: ran her hand through his hair. He didn't startle like she expected him to, just watched her. She let his surprisingly soft hair tickle her palm and fill the gaps between her fingers – it felt just like college – before her thumb curled around the delicate cartilage of his ear.

She smiled and put her other hand on his chest, raising herself on her toes. "Happy birthday, House," she whispered, before kissing his cheek. His stubble tickled her lips just like she thought it would – _that_ didn't feel like college. "Lock the door on your way out." He didn't say a word and watched her quietly head back to bed.


	39. I Want You To Be Happy

Hi everyone!

Happy new year!

This drabble is set at the end of 7.12 "You Must Remember This". I'd been wanting to continue that last scene ever since I first saw the episode, and I think I'd started writing something, but... meh. So when this idea popped into my mind, I knew I had to write it down.

Thank you for the feedback you left last time! I hope you'll enjoy this one.

 **39.** **I want you to be happy.**

His callused thumb rubbing her elbow woke her up. Cuddy was about to go back to sleep when somewhere in her confusion, she realised that House's breathing didn't sound as deep and slow as it did when he was asleep – and her administrator's need to fix everything kicked in.

"'You awake?" she whispered.

"No," he whispered back after a few seconds. She smiled and settled her head more comfortably against his shoulder, catching a whiff of her detergent from his tee-shirt.

She'd come to learn that when House was awake at night, if he wasn't pacing around to ease his pain, he was very likely thinking about his case. But since his case was solved, and he was not as agitated as during a bad pain day, he must have something else in mind nagging him. She had a slight idea about what was bothering him so much – which, in turn, bothered her.

 _Damn._ She thought she'd addressed it.

"Is it your case?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Leg?"

He shook his head.

"Sarah?"

She smiled when he scoffed. "No." _She was getting closer._

"Is it Wilson?"

He opened his eyes. Gulped. _Bingo._

She eventually spoke up. "I never asked if things went well with uh, the barista."

"They didn't."

"Oh."

"He says it's too soon after Sam. I gave him ten days."

She rolled onto her flank. Her elbow slipped out of his grasp, so she covered his fingers with her hand instead. "Do you still believe you're the one who should be alone?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." His voice was so low, she was lucky she heard him. In fact, it was lucky she heard him _at all_ – if they weren't in the dark, she was pretty sure he would have shut her out.

"House, it's sweet of you to care about your friend. _Uncharacteristically_ so," she quipped, before recovering her seriousness. "But Wilson's a good guy. I don't doubt he'll find a soon-to-be ex-Mrs Wilson eventually."

"Right. But he wouldn't have to if Amber…"

"It wasn't your fault."

He sighed. But this would be a conversation for another day.

She caressed the side of his face. "You, on the other hand, are worthy of love. And happiness. And if you don't believe that, I'll find a way to remind you. Every single day."

He stared up at the ceiling, processing her words.

"I love you, House," she added. "And I want you to be happy. So please, let me do just that."

Hell, if they weren't in the dark, _she_ never would have been able to say those things.

He squeezed her hand. _I'll try_.


	40. The Key Is Under The Mat

Hi guys! Here is a new drabble for you. Apologies for the delay - school is just as crazy this semester...

It's set at the end of 2.03 "Humpty Dumpty", and is divided into two parts. If you have the feeling that the first part only exists to mention how House and Cuddy say I love you, that's cause, well... you're right. :-D But I hope it won't stop you from enjoying the second part as well, which is the one thing that popped into my head when I saw the episode again (three times. Or four? Damn I really love those Monday nights re-run!).

Thank you for your feedback! I hope you'll enjoy this one.

 **40.** **The key is under the mat.**

Knowing he would pay her a visit, Cuddy had just popped her homemade mac and cheese into the oven when House knocked on her door.

"You moved the key," he accused. "It wasn't under the flower pot."

She grinned and let him through. "I moved it since _someone_ used it to break into my house and go through my things."

"It's not a break-in if I have a key," he said, dangling a set of said keys in front of her eyes. "The key is under the mat. I'm not an idiot." She snatched it from his hand and swatted his backside, before she took his hand and led him to the kitchen.

* * *

Later on that night, they were just laying together above the sheets, dozing and lazily touching each other, when the sudden rushing sound of rain pouring from the sky jolted her awake. "Do you hear that?"

"Hm," was his reply. His long day had already sapped his energy, and their recent activity hadn't helped, either. Cuddy slipped out of bed and, feeling a chill freeze on her skin, donned a white nightgown before heading to the dining room. Above the clamour of the rain, she could hear the distinct sound of rain drops trickling onto her mahogany table. With a sigh, she heated up some tea and placed a large pot on the table. The rain wouldn't last, but even if it did she eyeballed that it would do for the night. She wouldn't have to get up again.

"It's raining in my dining room," she announced as she sat on the bed, turning her back to him, and sipped her tea. "I put a pot on the table. Should be enough for the night."

There was a pause. "And now your guilt is catching up with you," he said, which was more an affirmation than it was a question. "Roberto will be fine. The hospital will give him enough money to live happily ever after without having to work a day in his life," he repeated mechanically, indifferent as to whether it would make her feel better; it was the truth, and to him it was all that mattered.

"Alfredo."

Cuddy finished her tea and set the mug on the bedside table, before joining him in bed again. She lay across from him, but didn't meet his eyes.

"Well, now you're overdressed," he said, flicking the strap of her nightgown so that it rested across her bicep.

She looked up at him, but made no move to indicate that she was willing to take off her clothes.

"What you said to me today…"

He sighed. "I said you were a good boss, get over it."

"You said I'll never be happy."

"I meant that," he said after a pause.

"What a relief," she quipped.

"Does that mean you shouldn't try?"

"Do you think I should?"

They talked in hushed voices. Sometimes for a few seconds she could fool herself into believing that there was a reason for it, such as the paper-thin walls of her dorm room in college or a sleeping infant in the next room.

"Don't resign yourself to be miserable. It's not like you."

"But it's hopeless."

"True. You're not happy unless things are right. Unfortunately, nothing's ever right." He took one of her hands, and fiddled with her fingers. "We're not even right."

"You feel right."

"Well, maybe that's a start. It's human to try. You're human."

She smirked. "You're not?"

He kissed her hand. "Have you met me?"

Cuddy smiled and cupped his cheek, kissing him sweetly.

"I don't think Cameron's over her crush on you, by the way," she said after a while. "She asked questions."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I knew you back in Michigan. That you were a legend." She laughed quietly.

House rolled his eyes. "Why are they all crazy for me?"

"It's the extra wood." More laughter ensued.

"Guess I have to thank you for my newfound popularity then," he quipped with a smirk, but her laughter died down.

He sighed.

"I'd forgotten about that guilt. God, woman, is anything not off limits with you?"

When that didn't seem to help her feel better, he gave her a kiss to soothe her; words failed him whenever he tried to tell her that he didn't resent her as much as she imagined.

"You're a good boss," he told her when he pulled away. "You may be a crappy doctor, but…" She rolled her eyes. He smirked. "You care. And you're right where you should be."

She processed his words, and eventually ran her thumb along his jaw line. "I am, huh?"

They looked into each other's eyes with a smile. House gently pushed her onto her back, letting her sit up so that he could pull her nightgown above her head. He kissed her lips and quickly moved on to her neck, following a trail all along her torso as she held onto his shoulders.

"By the way, I'm not staying at your place again," he told her navel. "You've got some really gross shit down your sink. And that's not a metaphor."

"Ugh."

She let her thoughts wander as he continued on his way downward.

 _It's human to try._

 _A sleeping infant in the next room._

 _…_ _Huh._

* * *

You also have to thank antares.78 for her one-shot "Hidden truths" (thanks girl!). I just really love the idea of House and Cuddy being in a secret relationship...

I also wanted to add a scene in which Cuddy realised that she wanted kids (since we never found out until she asked House for the injections!) and would decide to act on it instead of waiting for the right guy to come along - and their conversation here would be the perfect catalyst... (but obviously I couldn't tell you that until the end of the drabble. :D)

Thank you for reading!


	41. Stay There I'm Coming To Get You

Hi guys!

Here is a new drabble for you. Sorry this took so long - I got distracted by working on other fics, school, personal stuff, etc. Thank you for your patience.

This one is set in early season three. It's not exactly sunshine and puppies, though. Again, sorry - I'll do better next time. :D

Thank you for your support. I hope you'll enjoy this one!

 **41.** **Stay there. I'm coming to get you.**

The board member with the green tie is mid-sentence about the neurology department budget when Cuddy feels the first ripple of pain.

At the beginning, it feels like a regular, good ol' fashioned menstrual cramp.

But she knows that she isn't supposed to get those for at least another seven months.

Her realisation is interrupted by a repeat of the same cramp. Tenfold.

It's not a cry of pain that she muffles with a coughing fit – it's one of anguish. Fear. Terror.

Her nails dig into her palm until she draws blood while she waits for the meeting to end. The pain tears through her, wave after wave after wave. It feels like it will never stop.

When everyone finally stands up and starts shaking hands, she remains seated so that they don't see the pool of blood soaking her white skirt.

When the board members have left and the door falls shut behind them, Cuddy bends over the table and screams into her fist until bright white stars explode before her eyes, the pain ripping her abdomen apart.

She needs to get out of here.

There's no way she can stand up, less alone walk.

She needs someone she can _trust_ , preferably someone who knows already about her IVF.

The list is short.

In an effort to distract herself from the pain, she wonders if a list is still considered a list when it comprises only one item – or, in this case, only one person.

Tentatively, she lets go of her stomach to get her phone from her purse. Her fingers are shaking and it takes her an interminably long time to dial his number.

"House," she says when he picks up. She's surprised by how much pain she hears in her own voice. House replies nothing, and she focuses on her breathing so the pain doesn't overwhelm her while she tries to speak. "Need your help."

"Stay there. I'm coming to get you," he tells her right away, and for a split second she wonders if it's her voice that tipped him off.

"I was in a board –" She doesn't get to finish that sentence, interrupted by a ripple of pain. "Conference room on the first –"

"I know."

Of course he does.

Impatiently she waits, and it can't have taken him more than five minutes to get there but to her it feels like an eternity.

"Can you stand?" he asks her as he makes his way towards her.

"Don't know," she replies in a groan, her forehead still glued to the conference table.

He rests his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She turns to him and he hands her a Vicodin. "Take this. I need to get you to the ER."

She shakes her head. "No. No ER. Home. I'll be fine."

"You've lost blood. ER it is."

Reluctantly, she swallows the pill. He doesn't offer her any comforting words or gestures, save for taking her radial pulse, while they wait for the pain to dull so she can make it downstairs.

"Okay," she speaks up eventually. As she tries and stand up, House takes her right arm and wraps it around his shoulders. Gladly, she uses the support he offers to pull herself up. She tentatively takes a step once she's on her feet. Despite the Vicodin, she can feel a white hot line of pain in her lower stomach when she stands, but she can get to the basement if he allows her to lean on him – which he does by holding her waist.

Slowly, they head to the door.

What's left of the pain doesn't seem to be her biggest concern at the moment. Given the way she walks, he's inclined to think she's more worried about leaving a trail of blood behind them.

"It's fine. They'll clean it up." But she doesn't move any faster. He sighs. "Cuddy, this is a hospital. Building's full of sick people. You have dozens of patients who puke their guts out or shit their pants in the hallways daily. Blood is nothing."

"Right."

She unclasps her legs and looks away from the blood gushing freely down her thighs, resting her forehead against his shoulder. House squeezes her waist, prompting her to move forward.

How they manage to climb down the staircases leading to the ER, she'll never know. It's all a blur to her until she's lying on a gurney with her staff attending to her.

When they wheel her away, she looks back to see House standing in the hallway, waiting.


	42. Wow

Hello everyone!

Apologies for the disappearance. As some of you may know, I'm moving out of my parents' house in a few days; plus school has been pretty hectic, so really there hasn't been any time for me to write (or read, for that matter - if I haven't read your latest fic and I usually do read them, it's still in my inbox. I'll get it to it eventually. Be not afraid. :P) But I'm confident that things will slow down a bit in the upcoming weeks!

In the meantime, here is a new drabble for you. It's set at the end of 2.17 "All In" (you can thank the Monday night re-runs - again!), and it's just cute and fluffy. I hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you for reviewing. Thank you for reading. I'll see you guys soon!

 **42.** **Wow.**

Out of the tail of his eye, House saw Cuddy walk into her office and shut the blinds behind her. Knowing she'd had a long night, he assumed she would be in there for a while – presumably sprawled on the sofa – and took the time to finish his poker game with Wilson in the lobby.

He turned out to be right, as usual. When he opened the door, he found Cuddy sitting on the sofa, her hands clasped across her abdomen, and her feet resting on the coffee table with her shoes lying beside her – she was tired, but she'd still bothered to carefully and properly tuck them away. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed. She didn't open them when she heard him come in.

"What a night, huh?"

"What a night," he agreed.

"Congratulations on your diagnosis, by the way." She opened her eyes when she heard the ruffling sound of him taking off his suit jacket. "Wow."

Her eyes roamed across his silhouette, from his broad, strong shoulders tucked into a crisp white, ironed dress shirt, to the hint of sternum she could discern thanks to his opened collar, his defined, thin waist and long, muscular legs that she could conjure up from her memory. Standing up, Cuddy walked to him, tucked her thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, and gently tugged him towards her. He played along, resting his hands on her waist. She was bare feet and their height difference didn't surprise him anymore.

"How do you look better dressed down than up?"

"You didn't notice until now?" He couldn't resist running his hands across the soft velvet covering her torso. The dress was skin-tight, like she had been poured into it.

"I was pissed at you. And after that I was worried about Ian."

"How about you?" he challenged her. "Do you look better dressed down than up?"

With a seductive grin, Cuddy took a step back and reached to her flank to pull down the zipper of her dress. Without breaking eye-contact, she gracefully shrugged off the straps and let her dress fall to the floor, revealing that she wore nothing underneath.

"What do you think?"

He smirked. "Wow."

"Go lock the door. And kick Wilson out of your apartment already," she added when he turned away.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mistress."

"You never spend the night anymore," she lamented as he turned the key. "I'm feeling neglected."

"Don't worry. We're going to remedy that right now," he said as he tugged on her arm, and dove for her lips.


	43. You Don't Have To Say Anything

Hello!

I am a few drabbles ahead, which is why I am able to publish one for you today! Hopefully this is the sign that I'm back on my regular writing schedule (which, admittedly, is roughly non-existent, but it's always better than actually non-existent, right?)

This one is set during 4.03 "97 Seconds". Remember when House leaves his hospital room and Cuddy is weirdly wearing a) a ponytail b) seemingly no make-up c) the same shirt as in the S4 finale when she spends the night at PPTH? I came up with something to explain this anomaly.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for your feedback. I will see you soon!

 **43.** **You don't have to say anything.**

Cuddy had just settled in bed when she got Wilson's call. Late night calls from the hospital weren't all that uncommon, which is why she didn't worry when she picked up. "Doctor Cuddy."

"It's House," Wilson huffed into the phone. She started to wonder who he'd pissed off this time – was it a patient or an employee? – when her friend added, "He tried to kill himself."

Her mouth went dry and she sat up in bed, switching on the bedside lamp – as though it would help her see anything clearer. "Oh my God. Is he okay?" She could hear the loud pulses of her heartbeat behind her eardrums as her stomach seemingly dropped to the bottom of her abdomen. _Please be okay. Please be okay._

"Well, he shoved a knife into a wall socket, so…" She gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand. "He burned his hand pretty badly. His heart stopped for a minute and he's still unconscious."

Cuddy was suddenly aware of Wilson's annoyed tone and erratic breathing – she pictured him putting clothes back on, struggling to slip his sock on while holding his phone to his ear. "Are you going back to the hospital?" she asked.

"Yeah. His patient doesn't have cancer after all. I have to run his differential."

 _So House is going to be alone._

"I figured you'd want to know if one of your department heads tried to kill himself."

"Right. Yes. Thank you for calling, Wilson. Let me know if there's any change."

Wilson bid her goodnight and hung up. Cuddy let her arm drop along her torso and tried to gather her thoughts. She remembered that he'd asked her earlier why someone would voluntarily shove a metal object into a socket, and she'd dismissed him, thinking he was just being… House.

God, how long had he been thinking about that?

What if he'd…?

Her questions didn't bring her any answers, if anything they brought more questions. But she knew that she wanted – _needed_ – to be near him. She couldn't just go back to sleep in her own bed when her _friend_ – she insisted on the word friend – was lying in a hospital bed recovering from – oh, God – a suicide attempt. Which is why she hastily grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and drove to the hospital.

When she reached his room, he had not regained consciousness yet, but he was being monitored. His heart and brain activity were normal. He just needed to get some rest.

Cuddy sat in the chair next to him and sighed, tears springing up to her eyes as she watched his motionless form laying on the bed, the slow rising and falling of his chest the only indication that he was okay. She reached for his left hand, but stopped when her fingertips grazed the burns on his skin. Like Wilson had said, he had burned his hand pretty badly, but all he would need was a bandage and some antiseptic. As well as some pain medication.

She settled for his forearm instead, and dragged the chair closer to the bed so that she could make herself comfortable, and possibly doze off, while she held on to him, expecting to spend the night.

She had a change of clothes in her office in case of emergencies, as well as a tube of lipstick. She could wear the grey top she saved for when she had to spend the night at PPTH. She didn't have a hairdryer however, but a ponytail would be enough to conceal her greasy hair if need be.

 _House was right-handed._ She couldn't shake off this thought. He would have driven the knife into the socket with his right hand, but more importantly, he wouldn't have been able to use his cane with second degree burns on his palm.

 _Did he expect to make it?_

She wondered how many times she was going to spend the night at the bedside of this brash, insane genius-idiot – it was late at night and this was the best insulting but endearing term that she could come up with.

Early in the morning, House opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to figure out how he'd ended up there. He eventually noticed her hand on his arm and saw her, curled up in the chair by his bed, looking right back at him. It was just the two of them. To her knowledge Wilson hadn't dropped by, but then it was possible he had during the few times she did fall asleep.

Cuddy sighed. She wanted to grab him and shake him, ask him _why_ he'd want to do this to himself, to Wilson and to her, ask him what the _hell_ he was thinking about, kick his ass for scaring the hell out of her.

But all she could do was stand up and gently caress his forehead. "You don't have to say anything. Get some rest."

For once in his life he listened to her, and closed his eyes. Deep sleep overcame him again, and she doubted he would remember this encounter at all.

Relieved that he was okay, Cuddy left the room and headed to her office to catch up on some sleep.

She would kick his ass later.


	44. Call Me When You Get Home

Hello!

I wasn't planning to update anything until the story alert issue was resolved (you guys aren't getting emails either, right?), but it's finals week(s) and I took this afternoon off, and this drabble had been waiting for weeks, and I've been working on so many fics at the same time I just wanted to publish something. So... here I am!

It's set in 7.04 "Massage Therapy" and I got the idea after watching a video on YouTube of all the Huddy scenes from this episode (many thanks to the sweet person who uploaded it!). It takes place during the scene when they sort of confront each other in House's office about this whole masseuse thing.

Thank you for your feedback. I hope you'll enjoy it!

 **44\. Call me when you get home.**

"I'm not the only one who's holding back."

Cuddy licked her lips.

Until a couple of days ago, Lucas had been dropping by unannounced to pick up his stuff from her home. As she spent most evenings with House, she'd bumped into him only once or twice – it had been tense and awkward. He resented her. And she knew he knew where she was when he came over and it was the nanny who let him in. It had been enough to make her want to be careful and avoid that the two former friends met again.

But now Lucas' last items were gone, and she had run out of excuses.

Except that she was afraid to let House into Rachel's life, if he wasn't going to take their relationship seriously. His admission that he hadn't wanted to meet Rachel until now hadn't done much to reassure her.

But she had to be honest with herself.

If House were to move in with them, then yes. It would be definitive. It would be scary. He would be with her and Rachel. Letting him walk out would be out of the question. It would harm Rachel if he ever left. But he's not talking about moving in. He's talking about… sleepovers.

Besides, Rachel hadn't seen Lucas since the breakup, and she hadn't been asking about him. She doubted the kid even thought of him anymore. If House were to leave, too – maybe Rachel wouldn't remember him. Was that a good thing?

"You're right," she admitted softly. "I have been holding back."

She sighed. He looked at her with a sad look on his face – he seemed genuinely hurt that she'd kept him at arm's length as well.

"I'm sorry I accused you," she added.

He nodded and motioned for her to fold herself into his arms, which she did, resting her cheek against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Their arrangement had worked just fine for her, until she had told him she wouldn't be seeing him and she'd spent the night alone, for the first time since Trenton. Next thing she knew, she'd longed for him to be home with her. She'd found herself thinking about him constantly, wondering what he was up to at that moment, if he'd already eaten, what he'd had for dinner. Although she hadn't spent the entire night at his place yet – save for their first night – she found herself craving his presence next to her in bed.

What was she so afraid of?

"I understand why you're hesitant to let into Rachel's life someone who may leave at any time," he told her after a moment. "But you've gotta understand something. I'm not going anywhere."

She didn't reply.

"I know when it gets hard my first instinct is to run for the hills," he continued. "But I need to know that you're gonna stick around, too. That you want me around." He rested his chin on the top of her head and whispered into her hair, "Let me in, Cuddy."

She pulled away to stare up at him. "I want you around," she promised him, caressing his elbow for emphasis. "I want you in. House… I wouldn't have broken off my engagement if I didn't." He nodded. She pursed her lips. "I know you're not gonna run for the hills. You can't run."

A tiny smirk appeared on his face – Cuddy was the only one who dared bring up his disability. He liked that about her.

But she knew she had to do more than that if she wanted him to believe her.

"You're staying late tonight?" he asked.

"Yes. Board meeting."

"Me, too." She playfully arched an eyebrow at his answer. "Just not a board meeting."

"Of course not."

"Call me when you get home."

There was a pause that lasted as long as a heartbeat. "Only if you pack an overnight bag."

He tried to hide his smile – and failed beautifully.


	45. It's Two Sugars, Right?

Hello!

This new drabble is set somewhere in season 6. I don't remember what inspired it, but it took several weeks to put together. Still, I'm happy with the result!

Thank you for the feedback you left last time. I'll see you guys soon!

 **45.** **It's two sugars, right?**

One in the morning.

House had been staring at his white board for over an hour and a half now, trying to make sense of his patent's symptoms while fidgeting with various object like his cane, his oversized tennis ball, rubber bands, etc. He was now torn between exhaustion and mental restlessness, which could only mean one thing: it was time to get a snack.

When he made his way out of his office and to the vending machines located behind the elevators, he was surprised to see a brunette in a pencil skirt and high heels standing there, rummaging in her wallet for spare change.

"Hey," he saluted her.

"Hey."

Cuddy could have gone to any coffee machine in the hospital, instead of climbing four floors to get there. He was willing to bet she'd unconsciously made her way up here to be closer to him, maybe hoping to bump into him – but he figured that psychoanalysing her might not be the best idea if he wanted to conquer her heart.

He got to his change before she did, and inserted it in the slit of the coffee machine. "It's on me."

"You stole this money off Wilson," she accused – but she didn't say no.

"It's two sugars, right?" he asked as he pressed the sugar button several times.

"Jerk," she said as she pushed his hand away and brought the sugar to a minimum, choosing her drink. "Gee, I'd missed this."

But he could tell she wasn't annoyed.

He watched her discreet smile from the corner of his eye while he chose his snack. As Cuddy waited for the machine to fill the plastic cup, House bent over and retrieved his chocolate bar. He tore off the wrapping paper with his teeth and let it fall to the floor, much to her dismay.

"Do you want half?" he asked as he thrust it into her face.

"Are you trying to kill me with type two diabetes?" she replied, leaning away from him.

"Come oooon. Just one bite!"

"Never!"

She took a step back and he followed her, insisting until laughter burst out of her mouth. Next thing they knew, she was leaning against the wall, breathless, and he was pressing his body into hers and they were definitely too close for comfort.

The beep of the coffee machine stirred them from their contemplation of each other's eyes.

"And that's my cue," she said softly as she slipped away from him. "Are you spending the night?" she asked him as she retrieved her cup.

He nodded. "Till I can figure out the diagnosis, anyway. You?"

"Yeah, I'm probably pulling an all-nighter at this point."

"Alright."

They looked at each other. She sipped her coffee.

"Coffee break in two hours if you're still around?"

"Okay."

They headed back to their respective offices, both confident that they would now be able to get work done.


	46. It Can Wait Until Tomorrow

Hi!

It has been forever, but I am back with a new drabble. I've been cutting myself a lot of slack lately, but I'm hoping to write and publish more often this summer. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

This drabble is set in very early season 5. I _know_ it's linked with my friend House-less - we'd discussed it, but did you request it?

It's not the happiest drabble, but I hope that you'll nonetheless enjoy it. Thank you for reading!

 **46\. It can** **wait until tomorrow.**

Cuddy woke up bleary-eyed and disorientated, aware that something had stirred her from her sleep. It took her a few seconds to realise it was the slow and steady pounding against her front door. With a sigh, she pushed the covers away from her and slipped on her robe.

Unsurprisingly, she found an exhausted-looking House standing on her porch. He was leaning heavily on his cane, his hair sticking out every which way, and his face seemed to have more wrinkles than she'd ever seen.

"Hi," he saluted her, grabbing the door jamb before he lost his balance. It was then that the stench of whiskey emanating from him reached her nostrils.

A _drunk_ , exhausted-looking House.

She sighed.

"You better come in."

She tried to steer him towards the kitchen so that she could make him some hot, strong coffee, but he turned towards her living-room instead and collapsed on the couch before she could stop him.

"How did you even get here?" she asked as she turned on the light.

He vaguely gestured towards the street, trying to find the word on the tip of his tongue. "Taxi," he said eventually. He leaned over to try and remove his sneakers, but quickly gave up.

Taking pity on him – but also feeling a pang of tenderness towards this tall, broken man – she kneeled in front of him and undid his laces. House watched her quietly, then let out a particularly pained sigh. Looking up, she realised that his eyes were wet with fresh tears.

"Did everything I could."

Given his state, she could not be mistaken about what he meant.

She looked away, tried to ignore the tightness in her throat and removed his sneakers, before sitting beside him to help him out of his leather jacket. He somewhat helped her out and tried to remove his right arm from his sleeve, but he didn't budge when she tugged on the left side of his jacket.

"House."

His reaction to his name was quite the opposite of what she expected; instead of leaning away from the back of the couch, he wrapped his arm around her waist and let his head drop onto her lap.

"I never meant to hurt her," he whispered, a sob catching in his throat.

"I know."

Had the mood been any lighter, she would have expected some comment about how his head was on her vagina, or something along those lines.

"He left. I have to see him, tell him –"

He tightened his grip around her body, holding onto her with both arms, and burying his face in her thighs as a sob escaped from his lips and his tears poured down his cheeks.

"Shh," she whispered as she caressed his head. "It can wait until tomorrow." Though technically it _was_ tomorrow, she thought.

She just wanted him to have some respite. Between the bus accident, his skull fracture, the deep-brain simulation, Amber dying, Wilson not talking to him, Wilson leaving the hospital… He had a lot on his plate.

If he could find said respite with her, so be it.

She curled herself around him, running her hand through his hair softly until he fell asleep.


	47. There Is Enough Room For Both Of Us

Hello!

This new drabble is set in season 3, precisely after that episode in which House crashes Cuddy's date, like, twice. It's yet another secret relationship AU (I'm a sucker for that shit)

Don't really remember what prompted this snowstorm idea. But maybe it will help some of you guys if you're suffering through a heat wave?

Thank you for the kind words you left last time! They really made my day. :D

Enjoy, and I'll see you soon!

 **47\. There is enough room for both of us.**

"You _drove_ here? With this snow?"

House was standing on her porch, nestled in a thick winter coat. He'd tucked his hands in his pocket and his chin into his chest, trying to protect himself from the frosty wind and the little snowflakes that had started falling again just moments ago.

"Put my snow chains on and everything, Mommy."

"What are you doing here?"

Cuddy pulled the tails of her coat, under which she was wearing a couple of sweaters, tighter against her frame as a gust of wind blew past her.

"In case you hadn't noticed, power's out. You have a fireplace."

" _You_ have a fireplace."

"Haven't had the chimney swept. You did." She arched an eyebrow. "Suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning was tempting, but you'd miss me far too much."

"Okay," she dismissed him.

"You're more practical," he explained. "And a control freak. Of course you had your chimney swept. Also you had a fire on when you had your date over the other day. What was his name…"

He pretended to try and remember, even though they both knew he wouldn't. She stood there and stared at him, vaguely impressed by the shenanigans he'd pulled so far to try and get into her house.

"Whatever his name was, at least he didn't get to sweep _your_ chimney!" She opened her mouth in shock. "You're gonna let me in or what?!" he cut her off before she could insult him.

"Fine," she yielded as she turned around and left the door open. He followed her, shutting it behind him. Mechanically, he tried to remove his coat, but quickly realised that it wasn't much warmer inside. He hissed as he buttoned it back up.

Taking pity on him, Cuddy stepped in front of him and rubbed his arms vigorously. "Come on, let's get you warm."

With a smile, he let her for a few seconds, then rubbed her own arms as well. She laughed, and he pulled her towards him, rubbing her back, as her arms closed around his waist and she rested her cheek against his chest.

"God, stop. My skin is so dry it's gonna fall off."

"I'll rub moisturizer all over you," he promised into her ear, his hands stilling.

"Ugh. I'm not taking off any layers of clothing with this cold. Come on," she told him as they parted, motioning towards the kitchen. "Let's heat up some pasta."

She grabbed the candle she'd left by the front door and he followed her.

Though he'd talked of her fireplace, neither decided to actually light a fire; the soft warmth of the myriad of candles Cuddy had scattered across her kitchen, in complement to the layers of clothing they were both wearing, proved to be just enough. He watched her cook pasta on her portable stove, helped her set the table. Over dinner, she told him all about how she'd seen that the auxiliary generator at the hospital had run out of fuel when she'd checked it out after the weather forecast had announced a dreadful snowstorm, and all about everything she'd had to do to ensure the fuel would be delivered in time – the phone calls she'd made, the favours she was owed – and he listened quietly. PPTH was therefore running smoothly and she could spend the night holed up at home in peace while the snow storm raged outside.

When they decided to call it a day, he insisted to sleep in her bed, in order to share body heat.

"Fine," she agreed. "But I'm too cold to have sex, if that's what you have in mind."

"Give me a break. I don't always think about sex." She arched an eyebrow. "Little Greg is too cold, anyway," he admitted, causing her to roll her eyes.

They settled in bed together, having removed their coats to be more comfortable, and wrapped their arms around each other while they lay face to face.

But this time, candles weren't enough to warm them up. There was a chill in the air that was just enough to prevent them from falling asleep. Cuddy sighed and tucked her hands into her sleeves.

"Works better if we're skin to skin," he added eventually.

"It pains me to acknowledge that you're right." He didn't say anything. "Just the torso, then," she yielded.

"Just the torso."

They removed their sweaters and tried again, in a tighter embrace this time. Her nose was buried in his shoulder and her breasts were squeezed against his chest, the very top of his pubic hair tickling her stomach.

"Oh my God," she sighed. He wasn't much warmer than her, but she was surprised by how efficient it was and how warmer she felt already. She felt a chill along her spine and House, seeing the goosebumps on her skin, covered her back with his large palms.

They fell asleep within minutes.

House woke up in the middle of the night, his muscles pulled taut as he tried to shield himself from the cold. They'd somehow parted during the night, and now Cuddy was curled up into a ball next to him, shivering.

"Put your clothes back on," he instructed, shaking her awake. Without waiting for her, he slipped on one of his sweaters, pulled the sheets and blankets away from the bed and took them with him into the living-room. He spread them out in front of the fireplace and kneeled down.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy mumbled behind him, her eyes half-closed. She shifted from one foot to the other trying to keep herself warm.

"Making a fire, what does it look like?"

Once he was assured the fire would be burning steadily, he grabbed some pillows from the couch and settled down under the blankets, leaving her room close to the hearth. Cuddy stood there, watching him in awe.

"Come on," he beckoned. "There is enough room for both of us."

She grinned and did as she was told, laying close to him with her back to the fireplace. The warmth of the fire reached her through the layers of blankets and thick clothing – it was much better than back in her bedroom, trying meekly to share their body heat.

She sighed with contentment. "This is nice."

He looked down at her. "Yeah, it is."

Cuddy smiled, and tilted her head towards him to kiss him gently on the mouth.

Once again, they were asleep within minutes.

* * *

A/N: As OldSFfan pointed it out: don't use portable stoves indoors. You will be dead. Thank you.


	48. I Hope You Like It

Hello!

I just realised that I hadn't updated this story in three weeks! From The Cradle To The Grave has been the sole focus of my writing time so far this summer, so I might have neglected those drabbles... Just a bit.

This drabble is set in season 7 and was mostly inspired by a landscape I saw while on a train between Pisa and Florence a few months back (Hi Ju!), and my trip to Cádiz, Spain (which is really fucking lovely, so if you ever find yourself in the area...) last month convinced me to put it down on paper (so to speak). I will however admit that I'm not an expert of New Jersey geography, so... please bear with me.

Before I let you read: thank you for your feedback! You guys are the best!

 **48\. I hope you like it.**

The heat wave in New Jersey had been reaching its peak when Cuddy decided to drive Rachel to Julia's – she had AC and the kid would be more comfortable staying there for a while.

A few days later, as the temperatures had somewhat subsided, House suggested that Cuddy took her Sunday _completely_ off before picking up Rachel, and went on a bike ride with him. "Bring a towel and wear a bikini underneath your clothes – or nothing at all," he'd advised with a lecherous smirk. She'd rolled her eyes, but agreed anyway. These few days spent quietly at home with him and without Rachel had made her long to do more couple activities with him.

She'd packed everything into a backpack, which she strapped to her shoulders as she rode on his bike, holding onto his hips. At first, she was worried about wearing a helmet and all this leather in that heat, but the speed provided a cool wind that made the ride rather pleasant.

After a long time – she'd decided to forgo her watch – spent riding along the winded, deserted roads of the countryside, House stopped by a large field of tall grass. Further towards the horizon, she could discern a glimmer of water. When they'd walked there, Cuddy realised it was a small lake with sandy shores. The landscape was bathed in sunlight, and devoid of any human presence.

They had the entire place to themselves.

While she tried to remember how long it had been since she had set foot on a beach, she hurried to get rid of her backpack and clothes, revealing a plain back bikini.

"Are you coming?" she asked as she ran to the lake. The sand was burning the soles of her feet, and without a hesitation, she ran into the lake until she had water up to her shoulders. Then, she dunked her head into the water for a few seconds, eager to feel the air hit her wet hair when she would be reaching the shore again.

She walked back to House, who had picked up the backpack. He handed her her tee-shirt for her to wear, and motioned towards a patch of grass and tall trees further along the shore. They walked side by side, the water pulling at her ankles as it retreated back. She watched him walk beside her, and he didn't seem affected by it, even with his limp. Remembering how frail she was compared to him, she took his hand.

By the time they reached the trees, she was all dried up and it felt necessary to be in the shade again, which is where they settled. Cuddy removed her tee-shirt and lay down on her stomach, House sprawling on his back beside her.

She rested her hand on his bare chest, feeling it lift up and down as he breathed. The heat did not feel as stifling as before and she revelled in the silence for a while, interrupted now and then by a bird chirping nearby, or the sound of the waves if she focused hard enough.

"How did you even know about this place?" she asked eventually.

He shrugged. "Found it while I was driving around, a few years back." She nodded. "I hope you like it."

She grinned. "I do. We'll have to come more often."

"Maybe with Rachel."

"Yeah. She'd love the water."

Satisfied with his suggestion, she closed her eyes while the back of his hand caressed the length of her spine.


	49. Be Careful

Hello everyone! Long time no see...

I'm back with a silly little drabble. Can't remember what prompted the idea but I hope that you will go with the flow, too! It's set in season 7.

Thank you for your feedback. Thank you for reading. I'll see you soon!

 **49\. Be careful.**

They were cuddled up on the couch that night, him reading a magazine and her a novel, when Cuddy's eyes drifted from her book and landed on the hand resting on her knee.

"What the…"

House looked up as Cuddy picked up his hand and examined his fingertips.

"What?"

"Have you been digging up a dead body?" she winced. " _Again_?"

"Cuddy, come on. You know I never do the dirty work myself." She shot him a desperate look. He sighed. "What?"

"Your fingernails are disgusting."

He glanced at his hand. She was right – he could discern a thin, black line of dirt at the bottom of the white tip of his nails.

"They're manly."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a _doctor_. You should know about basic hygiene."

"I believe that's why we're supposed to rub our fingernails against our palms when we scrub in," he quipped. "An administrator wouldn't know that."

"You haven't barged in on anyone's surgery for only two days, how can they be so dirty?" He shrugged. "Hang on," she instructed as she disentangled their legs and disappeared into the hallway. When she sat back beside him, she brandished proudly a thin, pale wooden stick with a pointy end.

"What's that?"

"It's an orange stick," she explained patiently. "It picks up the dirt from underneath your nails."

He blanched slightly. "No."

"It's blunt, House, I've been using it for years. You won't feel a thing!"

"You are not putting that pointy thing underneath my fingernails."

Cuddy sighed. "Fine. But think of it this way – there's no way your dirty nails are getting anywhere near my lady parts tonight."

He hesitated for a split second – mostly because he didn't want her to think he caved that easily, she knew – and gave her his hand.

"Just… be careful."

"I will."

Cuddy gently slipped the end of the orange stick between the tip of his nail and his skin. It wasn't easy to move it from one side to the other; she could tell he'd never bothered to clean his fingernails before.

House looked at his hands, and he was willing to admit that the sight of his clean fingernails felt surprisingly satisfying. Besides, she was right – he didn't feel a thing. He might even say that the slight tickle caused by the end of the stick wasn't that bad.

He groaned. "Wilson cannot know that this ever happened."

"I won't tell him if you give me your right hand."

He obeyed without a second thought.

Cuddy observed his hands more attentively, caught up in the intimacy of the moment. He had long fingers and short, regular fingernails. Thick veins protruded underneath thin, golden hair across the back of his hands, and she could feel the calluses on his right hand, rough against her own palm. She briefly imagined what they would look like with a gold wedding band, and then shook off that thought.

"You should take better care of your hands," she said thoughtfully.

"I'm only willing to clip my fingernails so that you don't feel like you're being fingered by Edward Scissorhands."

She winced vaguely, then reached behind him to grab her tube of hand cream from the side table. House made a show of protesting, but he didn't withdraw his hands from hers when she applied the cream and slowly massaged it into his hands, focusing more on his right hand, which she knew he was more demanding with. She massaged the areas where the handle of his cane dug into his palm with every step he took. She rubbed each of his fingers, trying to get the joints to loosen.

"There," she concluded with a satisfied grin.

He smelled his hands. Orange blossom. _Nice._

"Wilson can _never_ know about this."


	50. I'll Help You Study

Hi guys!

Here is the 50th 'drabble' - we are now officially halfway through!

Thank you for your support. I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. It's vaguely set in season 7 and it was inspired by that scene in 7.06 when Cuddy has House signing paperwork and he asks her if she's 'hanging out' and I had this image in mind and here we are!

 **50\. I'll help you study.**

It was past 7pm, and House was still sitting in his office. His current patient was stable, hence his team being gone for the night – but still undiagnosed, hence his presence there. Although the sense of urgency he felt had plummeted after the electrical activity of his patient's heart had ceased riding a rollercoaster, the missing diagnosis felt like an idle tickle at the base of his spine and a quiet restlessness in his toes. This was why he was currently taking the time to read an article that had piqued his interest a few years back and might be relevant today – he'd carefully dog-eared the page, and the journal had joined the never-ending pile of medical literature that he stashed in his office and in his apartment 'just in case'.

The glass door of his office swung open. "Hey," Cuddy greeted him as she walked up to him, handing him a sheet of paper. "A terrified resident gave me your patient's labs. I don't know what you tell them, but they're supposed to be more intimated by the dean than by a department's head."

"Can't be intimidated if we're busy staring down that cleavage of yours," he quipped, seizing the occasion to look down her shirt as he took the paper from her hand. "Thanks. 'You gonna hang out?"

"Yeah," she said as she sat down across from him. "I'm done for the day. Whatcha doing?"

"Just reading," he shrugged. He turned back to the article, pushing his reading glasses further up his nose. Cuddy leaned back in the chair and let her arms go limp as she watched him quietly.

Without really looking away from the article, he turned around and grabbed a textbook from the shelf behind him, flipping through it expertly until he found the page he was looking for.

"Gimme," she said, motioning towards the book. "I'll help you study."

He smirked and scribbled some notes next to the article before he handed her the book – cardiac physiology. She idly flipped through it, not really paying attention to what it said – cardiology had never been her thing – and kicked off her heels before crossing her ankles on House's desk.

"You're distracting," he said, staring at her legs out of the tail of his eye.

"Maybe I'm trying to get you to come home with me."

He hesitated for a second. "Let me just finish this."

"No rush." She sighed contentedly, enjoying those silent moments with him more than she was ready to admit.


	51. I Like Your Laugh

Hello everyone!

I'm a few 'drabbles' ahead, so I figured I'd publish one today.

This one isn't really set in any season. It was most likely prompted by a conversation with Indy Stark Jr and House-less.

Thank you for leaving feedback last time. Enjoy!

 **51\. I like your laugh.**

Cuddy heard him _laugh_.

Well she _saw_ him more than heard him.

His smirk had spontaneously stretched into a full-blown smile in response to something she'd said, baring a hint of short, robust, and beautifully aligned teeth – which she wouldn't mind grazing her nipples or the crook of her neck, by the way. Was it possible to lust after someone's teeth?

His skin folded underneath his stubble, causing his eyes to narrow, but not enough for her to miss the amusement in his sparkling blue eyes.

Although the only sounds that escaped his mouth were short exhaled breaths, it was definitely laughter. A chuckle, at the very least.

Her mind wandered to that one time in med school when he had burst out laughing. It was the only time she'd ever seen him laugh like this. Unfortunately, she didn't quite remember what Gregory House sounded like, with his red face and slightly wet eyes. Memories faded – and she hadn't particularly held on to this one. How could she have known someone as quick-witted and teasing as him wouldn't be as prone to laughter twenty years from that moment? How could she have known she would miss it?

He was more miserable now, even if he was happy with her – the infarction had happened, the chronic pain had happened. He was not quite the same man, and for this reason she appreciated his laughs even more. They were rare enough, after all – even though she liked to think he laughed more now that he was with her.

"You're creeping me out," she heard him say, making her realise she must have been staring at him for a few seconds.

She smirked. "I like your laugh."

He looked taken aback for a second, then turned away before she could see him blush. "Moron," he muttered. She grinned.


	52. Look Both Ways

Good morning!

This drabble was written for IndyStarkJr (;*). It's set right before the beginning of 5.18 "Locked In" and is yet another secret relationship AU.

Thank you for the feedback you left last time. I hope you'll enjoy this one as well!

 **52.** **Look both ways.**

The weirdest thing is, he didn't remember the accident in itself. He was riding his bike and everything went black, and from there it's only snippets of him in the ambulance or being admitted at Trenton General, anonymous faces blurring into each other, the glare of the penlights and overhead lamps in the ER. He sees himself lying on the pavement but can't tell if he's dreaming or somehow seeing himself through the paramedics' eyes.

The next thing he sees is clearer. The room he's in looks like, and sounds like, an emergency room. But the most striking thing in his eyesight is Cuddy's unmistakeable grey glance.

"You idiot."

Right. He was on his way home and rushing to see her because it was late.

"You're supposed to look both ways before entering an intersection."

"This is not where we were supposed to meet," he croaks, surprised that his voice sounds so hoarse. She hands him the glass of water sitting by his bed.

"Hospital called me," she explains. "I was the last call you made."

He remembers phoning her to let her know he was leaving the hospital.

"Did you worry?" he asks, well aware that she must have been expecting him for at least half an hour when she got the call.

"They told me they found you barely responsive, but your head CT's clean. You did scrape your elbow, though," she says, pointing at his torn, bloodied shirt sleeve.

"I don't even feel that."

"No kidding."

They stay silent. "But did you worry?" he presses.

She shrugs. "You're still here, kicking it. That's what matters."

"How long have you been here?" It feels like it's early morning. He doesn't know if he should be scared or relieved if she tells him she's been here all night.

"Just a few minutes. Rachel was asleep and they told me you were sleeping, so... Just figured it made more sense to be there when you could actually know I'm here."

He smirks. "Sounds like something I would say. You're becoming more like me."

"Guess I should call an exorcist."

His lips stretch into a full-blown grin, which she reciprocates. They stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds, and she leans towards him to give him a soft kiss on the mouth.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispers against his lips. He nods. When she pulls away, he looks at her with gratitude, until the man lying in the next bed catches his attention, and she knows he's going to be just fine.

"I'll see you at work," she tells him when she stands up, but he's already staring at the guy's EKG from afar, his blue eyes sharp as ever. They're keeping him overnight for observation, but she doesn't ask if he wants her to drop by again tonight. With a smile, she heads out of the emergency room.


	53. That's Okay, I Bought Two

Hello everyone!

This new drabble is set right after 1.05 'Damned If You Do' (yup, there's re-runs on French TV again). In the final montage, you may remember briefly seeing Cuddy tending to patients on Christmas night. It's based on that. It's also another secret-relationship-AU (UGH I'm such a sucker for that).

Thank you for your reviews. They always make my day. I hope you will enjoy this one as well!

 **53\. That's okay, I bought two.**

It was half past 7 in the morning when Cuddy climbed into House's bed, finding him curled up beneath the covers. He didn't move to give her more room, but acknowledged her presence with a soft grunt. Lying down facing him, she brought the covers up to her nose and sighed, revelling in the body heat that the blankets had trapped in the bed.

"God, good thing I'm not working tomorrow. You know how people think Christmas night is the quietest because everyone is huddled inside celebrating?" she said. "It's not."

"People don't think that," he replied in a drowsy tone, without bothering to open his eyes. The early light was shining through a sliver of window that the curtain didn't cover, and she could easily discern his sleepy features.

"I lent a hand in the ER after we had a car accident coming in. An old lady who'd come in for a sprained ankle complained to me that it was too busy and that she could barely hear herself think." He smirked. "Anyway, we had the usual drunk drivers, one carbon monoxide poisoning, but nothing that stands out compared to the other years. I barely had time to eat. I didn't even get to grab a Turkey sandwich or something."

"That's okay, I bought two." She grinned. "It's in the fridge."

"How was dinner with Wilson?"

"Fine."

"Good."

He kept his eyes closed, slowly but surely on his way back to sleep. She observed his face for a while, appreciating those moments when he looked almost innocent and at peace. However, as exhausted as she felt, she couldn't let go of some thoughts that were pestering her, playing on a loop in her head for hours now.

"The toughest part is tending to the patients who are alone," she whispered eventually. "The kids at least have their families and Santa, but…"

"You always volunteer to work on Christmas night."

There was a pause. She liked that he always said something that was true but that she didn't expect.

"I don't have anyone waiting for me at home. I'd rather let my staff celebrate with their family. Or their best friend," she added with a tender smile.

House let a few seconds pass by. "You do, now," he told her, squeezing her arm.

He'd kept his eyes closed, always reticent to let his feelings show.

She smiled. "Well you better make sure Wilson doesn't crash Christmas night next year then."

He let out a contended sigh. "'Kay, babe. I'll find him a new wife."

Satisfied with that answer, Cuddy closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep.


	54. I Don't Mind

Hello everyone!

Here is a new drabble for you. It's really silly and really short and there's not much of a plot... But I hope you'll like it anyway. It's set in season 7.

Also, quick warning: school is gonna be NUTS in November (and possibly all the way until early January?), I'm a few drabbles ahead but I don't know if I'm going to be able to publish consistently.

Thank you for the feedback you left last time. See you guys soon!

 **54\. I don't mind.**

She'd first started borrowing his things the night after Trenton.

Granted, confessing her love for him had been a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision, and she hadn't brought a change of clothes. Borrowing his tee-shirt (and his robe, pyjamas, shirt, etc. etc.) had proven to be necessary.

House hadn't complained, of course. She looked damn cute in that blue shirt. And in those oversized pyjamas pants. And in his tee-shirt.

Time went on, summer began, and she started wearing _only_ his tee-shirts around the apartment. Then it was September, and as it got cooler, she borrowed his shirts, sometimes his underwear, sometimes his pyjamas pants. She wore them after sex, when they would hang out together in the bedroom or the living-room, and he was free to admire the parts of her that his clothing gracefully bared: a shoulder here and there, the dip of her chest beneath her clavicle, a slim and elegant wrist, long, toned legs and agile feet.

Soon after, winter followed (and so did their six month anniversary, somehow they'd made it to that milestone). She borrowed sweaters he never wore, hoodies, even socks when tucking her feet between his calves wasn't enough to warm her up. When she wasn't around, he fished the clothing that she borrowed out of the laundry basket and filled his lungs with her smell and sometimes put them back on, well aware that she wore his clothes for the same reason.

One night, Cuddy was quietly going through one of his drawers as he lay dozing in bed. When she found what she was looking for, she turned around, aware of his eyes on her.

"Mind if I borrow this?" she whispered, holding up a piece of garment that he couldn't discern.

He smiled. "I don't mind."


	55. You Didn't Have To Ask

Hello everyone!

Here's a new drabble before November gets super busy here...

I was re-watching 7.11 'Family Practice' the other day and was thinking that House and Cuddy could really use a fucking hug. (and so could we) (I mean this episode is one of the best of the series. Emotionally, it's... woah)

I hope you'll enjoy this one. Thank you for reading!

 **55\. You didn't have to ask.**

Cuddy followed her mother to the OR, and House followed her.

"You're going into surgery, Mom," she told her before she had to let her go, even though she wasn't certain Arlene was conscious enough to hear her. "They're going to make you all better."

When the doors closed behind the gurney, Cuddy made her way up to the observation deck. Again, House followed her and watched her watch the surgery, pacing in front of the window.

She looked like she was hanging by a thread. Everything in her body language transpired her anxiety; her frown, the way she was curled around herself, shivering with cold – her hair and clothes were still wet with rain.

"Want me to take you back home?" he spoke up then. Cuddy turned to him, a little unsure of her decision.

"I should be there."

"She's in good hands." He trusted Chase, and he knew she did, too. "Besides, Julia will be there when she wakes up."

"I'm sure she'd rather see Julia, anyway," she muttered. House looked at her, and she couldn't resist the prospect of getting some warmth and some rest at home with him and with her daughter. "I want to see Rachel," she yielded.

He opened the door and held out his arm towards her. "Let's go get your stuff."

They headed down to her office, where she picked up her purse and coat and locked the door, before they took the lift down to the parking garage.

Once there, she curled her arm around his own and rested her cheek against his shoulder without a word. It considerably slowed them down, but he felt that the break she needed to take couldn't wait until they were home.

Indeed, after a few seconds, she stepped in front of him and, still holding onto his arm, pressed herself against him, wrapping her other arm around his waist. He held her back, the handle of his cane balanced between his thumb and forefinger. He felt her chest swell against his when she took a deep breath to stop her tears, although that didn't really work.

"I'm so tired," she whispered.

"It's okay. She's getting better."

"God, House, we crossed so many lines…"

"It's over," he assured her as he rubbed her back and kissed her wet hair. "It's over."

"It's over," she repeated, before sniffling a little. "God, what if she'd died? What if I'd lost my mom?"

"You didn't." They heard footsteps behind them and she quickly pulled away from him, magically putting her face back on in the blink of an eye. "You didn't."

She sighed. "No."

He nudged her forward. "Come on, then. I'm driving. How about a warm bath when we get home?"

She held onto his arm again. "I think I just want to go to bed. With Rachel. And with you."

"God, woman. You didn't have to ask."


	56. Good Luck

Hello!

Long time no see...

November has been hectic as predicted. December should be a bit better and I'm hoping to be able to get back on the writing saddle.

In the meantime, here's a new drabble that I'm not particularly happy with, but I've spent enough time trying to fix it (and you can't always like what you write. C'est la vie. There'll be better drabbles ahead. :P) It's set during the famous ass scene in 3.15 'Half-Wit'.

Thank you for reading!

 **56\. Good luck.**

"I'm here if you need me."

"I need you."

Without a moment's hesitation, Cuddy raised herself on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around him. He diligently rested his chin on her shoulder, but let his arms go limp along his flanks.

She tried to hold on to this moment for as long possible – she knew him, and he would be quick to pull away – cataloguing every sensory information. He smelled like, well, himself. The wool of his coat was coarse under her palms. His shoulders were so broad she felt tiny trying to contain all of him between her arms.

Involuntarily, she wondered if it were the last time he let him hug her. If the treatment in Boston didn't work…

Dread had been squeezing her heart for the past few days. House was dying. Maybe he didn't mean it when he said he needed her, but he owed her _this_.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," she whispered before she covered with her lips the scar in his neck from when he got shot. She could feel the thickness of it through her lips and it made her chest ache.

The past year had been difficult. Some lunatic shot him. The ketamine wore off. The whole Tritter thing happened. Now this. She couldn't think of a single day when she didn't worry about him.

"Don't die on me, House," she mouthed.

 _Maybe_ he was feeling a little bad that this was all a lie, House realised as she held him as though her life depended on it, even though she'd tried to be casual about it (and even though she thought he couldn't hear her).

He finally moved his hands. Before she could understand what he was doing, he gave her ass a firm squeeze and proclaimed that it was one small feel for man, but one giant ass for mankind.

She grinned and pulled away. "Thanks. Good luck in Boston."

He nodded. "It'll be fine."

"If you say so…" She gave him a small smile, and headed towards her bedroom.

If he didn't lose his humour, then she could believe him.

"Call the Make-A-Wish foundation," she quipped as she heard his footfalls behind her. House grinned and turned back towards the door.


End file.
